BEST LAID PLANS 5
by mabb5
Summary: Beverly, Nella & Vash join forces.  Picard throws Ro in the brig.  Lwaxana gets her wish.  And Deanna has the last word.


_**THE BEST LAID PLANS: **_

_**PART 5: Menage a Troi**_

"_MENAGE A TROI" Beverly, Nella and Vash join forces. Lwaxana finally gets her wish. Picard throws Ro in the brig. And Deanna gets the last word. Nc17. Usual disclaimers apply._

**=/\= =/\= =/\=**

Beverly looked at herself in the mirror and decided that her new style of her hair, pulled back and plaited, suited her. She then got dressed putting on tan slacks and a matching blouse. There were numerous pockets and compartments to both pieces of clothing, all smartly trimmed in azure. With a matching blue kerchief about her neck, and short leather half-boots, she thought she could present herself as a suitable archaeologist's assistant.

She nervously glanced toward the front of her shuttlecraft, which was currently on autopilot. She was not quite an hour's travel time from landing on Gaudete II. And then, she hoped that Jean-Luc would consider her arrival to be a most pleasant surprise.

She debated about spraying herself with some cologne, but decided to wait until she learned about the local biting insects and what attracted them.

Then she figured _what the hell_, and put some of her favorite scent on her wrists and neck.

She'd done a lot of thinking since Jean-Luc had left. And she'd finally come to the conclusion that her life was better with him than without him. Life on board the _Barton_ together, was going to be full of complications, but if he loved her even only half as much as she loved him, they'd survive.

Besides, there was a certain portion of her soul that liked the idea of being a _captain _over Jean-Luc Picard for a change.

She resumed piloting her craft, the _B. J. Hunnicut. _She had managed to reach Gaudete II only days after she'd applied for and received a thirty day shore leave. Having hitched a ride on the _U.S.S. Sutherland_ which patrolled this sector of the galaxy, they'd dropped her and her shuttle off only a few light years away from her destination. She used five days to make the same journey that had taken Jean-Luc weeks to travel as a civilian.

And now she was going to see him again, and tell him what was in her heart. She was edgy with excitement and anticipation.

After guiding her craft to a very smooth landing on what appeared to be some sort of animal pasture near the site, and hoping that Jean-Luc was somewhere nearby admiring the unknown pilot's skill, she re-checked her image in the mirror, then stepped out onto Gaudete II.

Her first impression of Gaudete II was that it was green. Deep blue-grass grew over the sloping hillsides. Short brackish green shrub-like trees dotted the perimeter of the archaeology site which extended into the hillside where she thought she saw some cave entrances. The deep blue clear sky had green streaks with celadon colored cumulus clouds. It was sort of pretty. The sun was near the horizon. Beverly wasn't sure if it was going up or down. She hadn't noticed when she was orbiting. She'd have to ask.

A tall, angular elderly Vulcan gracefully walked over to her from one of the huts nestled against the sloping hillside. These pre-fabricated structures were flanking what appeared to be the main site of the dig. His amber to brown robes flapped slightly about him.

"I am Dr. Storal. Who are you?" He observed that the shuttlecraft bore Starfleet registry, but the woman descending from it was dressed as a civilian.

"How do you do, Dr. Storal. I am Dr. Beverly Crusher."

Storal cast a direct look at the Starfleet insignia on the side of the craft. "I did not request a doctor. Why are you here?"

Before she could respond, a very loud voice announced another's presence. "Thank the gods that you're here!"

Both Storal and Beverly turned to look in the direction of the noise.

"Beverly!"

"Vash!"

Beverly's eyes narrowed as her expectant mood abruptly changed. She began to consider the possibility that Jean-Luc was a two-timing, low-down liar of a lothario. She knew that he had specifically told her that Vash was not going to be here with him. However, she knew enough about Vash's character, or lack thereof, to give Jean-Luc a wide margin of doubt before she lambasted him.

"_**Where is Jean-Luc?" **_both women asked simultaneously.

For an instant, there was dead silence. All of Beverly's threatening anger dissipated when the importance of Vash's words were understood.

"He's not here?" Beverly yelled at Vash.

"Are you referring to Picard?" Storal asked.

"Yes. What happened to him?" Beverly addressed the Vulcan.

"I thought to surprise him when I came here, but he never showed up." Vash raised an eyebrow, refraining from mentioning the fact that she had the suspicion that Beverly had been planning on doing the exact same thing.

"Well…" Beverly looked over at the Vulcan. "I guess I'd better find out what happened to him. Where are your communications?"

"We've got only the usual," Vash quickly said. "Gaudete II doesn't exactly have a thriving interstellar space port. There's only a few outposts on the southern hemisphere's continents. We're pretty much left alone up here except for a few terrafarmers."

"That's all well and good Vash. But when was the last time that you have heard from Captain Picard?"

"I haven't. Heard, that is." Vash stared at Storal. "And he claims that he never even got my communiqués about Jean-Luc coming in the first place."

Beverly whirled around and started back toward her shuttlecraft.

Vash caught up with her. "What are you doing?"

"My shuttlecraft is Starfleet issue. I should have a better comm system than you do."

"I didn't know that stealing shuttlecrafts was one of your many talents, Doctor."

"This shuttlecraft is mine, Vash."

"Last time I said that I nearly got ten months in jail."

Beverly ignored Vash as she went inside and sat down at her comm panel.

"Who are you calling?" Vash climbed into the craft after her.

"I am a full commander in Starfleet, Vash. I have a few privileges that civilians don't have." Moments later she found herself in contact with her home system on Caldos.

"Damn."

"Run out of privileges, Beverly?" Vash innocently asked. Though Vash did privately admit that it had only taken Beverly a few minutes to get access to communication channels that the ordinary average citizen would have taken hours to try and gain.

"My home computer. It's not communicating."

Vash eyed the message I.D. in the corner of the screen. "You live on Caldos?"

"Yes. I have a house there."

Vash's smile became a bit strained as she commented, "Jean-Luc was living on Caldos when I contacted him about this dig."

"I know." Beverly didn't say anything more because she knew that it would annoy the hell out of Vash. Instead, she started working to try and get ahold of someone that could help her find Jean-Luc.

Vash couldn't let the matter drop. "Jean-Luc was living with you when he knew that he was coming here to Gaudete to join me?"

Beverly looked over at Vash who had claimed the spare console chair. "I was under the impression that you would not be here when Captain Picard arrived."

"Well, that may be what I told him." On Beverly's accusatory look Vash rapidly explained, "But he knew I was lying. He knows I always lie to him."

"Yes. Jean-Luc told me in the past how great a liar you are."

"Did Jean-Luc mention everything else that I'm great at?"

"No. I got the impression that lying was it."

Vash glared at Beverly, but before she could say something, Beverly's screen lit up.

Almost twenty minutes later, Beverly was cursing. "Riker's on leave, Geordi's gone off with Dr. Brahms, and Data's not in his quarters."

"Why do I get the feeling that you don't have Jean-Luc's itinerary."

"I do."

Vash waited. "And?"

"It's on a chip that isn't communicating with my computer."

"So how do we go about getting Jean-Luc's route short of going back to Caldos? Any neighbors you can call?"

"Well, there is Ruby MacPherson, but considering that she's still stuck in the 19th century of Earth, technologically speaking that is, she's a last resort."

"Who mapped out Jean-Luc's trip?"

"Someone at Starfleet Command, Earth."

"Well, move over, Beverly. When it comes to getting information out of Starfleet Command that the public is not supposed to have access to, I think I'm better at it than you are."

"I don't know about that. Have Jean-Luc tell you about the time he almost had me court-martialed for being too nosy."

"Maybe there is hope for you if you can get Jean-Luc mad enough to want to put you behind bars."

"I'm sure that he's felt that way about you many times."

"It arouses him." Vash smugly smiled.

Beverly ignore that statement.

Minutes later Vash let loose a string of invectitudes that Beverly reluctantly found quite innovative.

"That damn Vulcan! How dare he accuse me of stealing Starfleet comm channels!"

"I don't think that Ensign Steck believed I was a captain. Something about the access codes that you tried to use must have made him suspicious. It didn't help matters when you lied about being Admiral Hansen's widow."

"The man's been dead for years! How could I know that a Vulcan ensign kept track of Starfleet gossip about late officer's spouses. It's worked before!"

"Well, it didn't work today."

"Now what do we do?"

Beverly suddenly stopped being irritated with Vash. She had a greater concern to worry about. "I find Data. He's the only one on Earth with enough rank to get what we need from Steck."

Half an hour later Beverly finally found someone awake at the grad student housing where Data kept his rooms. A bleary-eyed Michael O'Leary answered the comm summons.

"Sure I know the 'droid," the man mumbled.

"Do you know where he is?"

"Lady, it's three a.m. in the morning! I just got in from a gig, and I've had a couple of pints besides. I don't feel like pounding on his door."

"We already tried that. He's not there. Mr. O'Leary, I'm calling off-planet so I'm sorry that I didn't notice the time. However, this is an emergency. I need to talk to Data right away."

Vash whispered to Beverly, "Do you know what he's talking about?"

Beverly nodded. She'd explain to Vash later that keeping company with a musician like Will Riker had taught her all about late night gigs and bar room behavior.

O'Leary looked at the two ladies on his monitor. "I don't get it."

"What's that, Mr. O'Leary?"

"Why that machine keeps getting all the beautiful babes."

Vash and Beverly looked at each other.

"Explain," Beverly ordered in her best no-nonsense CMO's voice.

"He's probably with his girlfriend. A real good lookin' lady." He eyed Beverly. "That _thing_ seems to like red heads."

Beverly filed away her surprise at Data's behavior for later. Right now she needed to get some answers.

"Do you have any idea where he is, Mr. O'Leary?"

"No. But whenever he goes to visit the woman, he takes his cat. Maybe I should get a pussycat…"

Beverly groaned.

Vash tried something else. "Michael O'Leary, isn't it?" A little sultry heat colored her voice as she drawled, "You're a musician?"

"Yeah."

"Well, when we're done fighting Data, I have to come to Earth on business. I'd like to see how well you play your instrument."

Beverly bit her lip in order not to groan out loud at this statement from Vash. The amazing thing was that it worked.

""Now, if you could just tell me how Data goes to visit his girlfriend? Does he take surface transport? A shuttlecraft? What? Surely, you've noticed. He's a little too whitey-faced not to observe. Especially when he's carrying his cat."

"You his girlfriend?"

"No. His mechanic. Once I settle my business with Data though, I could be looking for a man. I just finished off my last lover."

"I bet he died happy."

Vash's grin was quite suggestive. "He did."

Beverly interjected, "Do you know how Data goes about?"

"Yeah. He used the transporter. What else? You Starfleet types can afford to use it just to go around the block."

Vash whispered to Beverly, "Why would anyone want to use a transporter to go around the block?"

Beverly ignored Vash, concentrating on O'Leary's statement. "Are you saying that Data used a Starfleet transporter to travel?" "Guess so. I didn't see him walking down the block in the rain to go to the public transporter stations like the rest of us. All he has to do is push that fancy comm badge of his."

"Thank you, Mr. O'Leary!" Beverly happily said. She moved to shut down the link.

Vash stopped her. "Don't be so hasty, Bev. Mr. O'Leary deserves our thanks." She bestowed on him her most promising smile. "As soon as I come to Earth, I promise to come and visit, Mr. O'Leary. I've traveled too much around the universe not to recognize a rare man when I see one. And you even have talent, too."

O'Leary was still glowing when the connection was cut.

"Why did you do that?" Beverly was annoyed with the games that Vash felt compelled to play.

"I was telling the truth, Beverly. Besides, it never hurts to be nice to people in case we need to use them in the future."

Beverly thought that Vash's words rather nicely revealed the lady's personal philosophy on life. But at the moment, she didn't care to start an ethics debate.

"Well, let's see if I can track down Data." A few minutes later Beverly finally was able to obtain his location on Earth from a Starfleet transporter station.

Beverly hailed the location.

As they were waiting for it to go through, Vash sighed loudly.

"What?"

"I was just thinking of how much fun I could be having if I were a Starfleet officer with access to all of your precious security codes."

"Fortunately, that is a problem I will not have to worry about."

"Oh?" Vash bristled. "Meaning?"

"Let's just say that you never struck me as Starfleet caliber material."

"Well you wouldn't know an Ikonian glyph stone from a tombstone transfer! You wouldn't last five minutes in a Rigan bazaar!"

Vash had Beverly there, at least when it came to glyphs. But as for dealing in bazaars, that was another matter entirely. Now, however, was not the time to prove otherwise.

Reading the placement of her call, Beverly was surprised by the location. She hadn't thought that Data would know anyone in Old Baltimore, Maryland.

An elderly lady with flowing hair, wearing a rather elaborately sparkled grey evening gown answered the hail. _Surely, this couldn't be the lady in which Data was interested_. That O'Leary fellow had described her as a red head.

"Yes?"

"Ma'am? I'm Beverly Crusher. I'm looking for Mr. Data. Is he there?"

From the background, Beverly could hear the sound of a Chopin Impromptu. It sounded like it was really being played by a person on a piano. Beverly heard a mistake.

"I'll let Data know you're calling," the lady announced. With that, she left the comm on, and moved away.

A moment later, a woman in a stunning silver beaded evening gown approached. When she came into full view, the women on both sides of the call were surprised.

"Beverly."

"Nella. Good to see you again."

"Good to see you too. How's Jean-Luc?"

Nella had answered Beverly's question before she'd even gotten up enough nerve to ask if Jean-Luc was with her. Beverly sighed. "I don't know how Jean-Luc is at the moment. That's why I'm calling for Data. I need his help. I understand that he's visiting you."

Nella laughed. "Yes, Data's a good friend. And a good musician. He's the one playing the piano. I've been teaching him."

A moment later, Data came over to the screen. "Forgive me, Doctor, for keeping you waiting. I had not realized that there was some urgency. I had been playing the piano, and I have developed the habit of…"

"Data!" She interrupted him. "I'm glad that you've learned to play the piano, but I've got a problem."

"Doctor, what is the nature of your problem? How may I help?"

"I'm trying to find Jean-Luc."

"You have misplaced him? Where?"

Vash stuck her head nest to Beverly. "Hi, Data. Remember me?"

"Vash. I remember our encounters. Do you wish me to recount them?"

"Later, dear boy. Right now, we need you to help us find Jean-Luc." She directed a smiling look at the android.

Beverly sighed again, then explained. "Jean-Luc left Caldos more than a month ago. He was supposed to arrive on Gaudete II two weeks later. He has yet to show up. And I don't have his itinerary to figure out where he is or what route he might have taken."

"Then you do not think he is in any danger, Doctor?"

"Jean-Luc was using civilian transport to get to his dig. Heaven knows what happened or if he just changed his travel plans."

"Would not Captain Picard contact you, Doctor, if he had changed his plans? It is unlike the Captain to allow you to worry."

Beverly turned red at his words. "Uh, Data, Jean-Luc and I did not exactly part on friendly terms. I don't think that he felt any obligation to contact me if he'd changed his plans. Which is why I cannot say for sure one way or the other as to what has happened."

"You had a fight. I understand. However it would be remiss of me not to try and find him just to make sure that he is not in need of assistance, Doctor. I will begin at once."

Vash spoke up. "There's a stuck up Vulcan at Starfleet Command named Ensign Steck. He supposedly plotted out Jean-Luc's journey."

Beverly interjected, "And since I'm technically on leave, this ensign seems to think that my rank doesn't count. Just wait until I do get back to active duty. It will count then all over his blasted bureaucratic hide."

"Bloodthirsty, good. I always knew there was something other than ice water in your veins." Vash agreed with Beverly.

"Doctor, if Ensign Steck strictly adheres to regulations, I too, am currently off duty. His logic will apply to me as well."

Beverly groaned.

Vash spoke up. "Data, go around him. Jean-Luc's travel plans are not priority information. Surely you can crack those computer codes in order to get them?"

"What you are asking me to do, Vash, is clearly against Starfleet regulations."

"Don't cite the rules at me, Data, when Jean-Luc could be in real trouble!" Vash snapped back.

Data considered her words. "You are correct. Starfleet rules be damned." And then he smiled.

For once, Vash was speechless when she realized that the android was displaying emotion.

Beverly was amused by Data's choice of words even as she was relieved that he was going to help.

Nella stepped back into view. "Beverly, is there anything that I can do to help? I'll be leaving for my ship, the _Cairo_, soon. But I can go back on duty right now."

"Thanks, Nella,'" Beverly replied.

Data spoke up. "Nella, you are returning to active duty in forty-seven hours. Your resumption of active duty now will permit us to use your rank to get the information that we need through proper channels."

"Will do, Data," Nella agreed.

Data smiled again. "Though I must admit that I like the thought of breaking in to Starfleet Command's security codes. I have not had such an intriguing challenge in quite a while."

"Well be in touch as soon as we know something," Nella announced. "Talk to you soon." With that, she signed off.

Beverly leaned back in her chair, somewhat relieved. "If anyone can track down Jean-Luc, it is Data. With Nella's assistance."

Vash leaned back too, made herself comfortable, crossed her legs and then stared directly at Beverly. "So, tell me what happened to my favorite Friar Tuck. But, before you tell me that tale, tell me about this latest addition to the list of ladies who have joined Jean-Luc Picard's harem. What did you call her? Neela?"

"Nella." Beverly sighed for the umpteenth time, then stood, going over to some containers by the back of the shuttlecraft. "Is it morning or night here?" She pulled out a bottle of wine. Not the good French stuff for she was saving that for Jean-Luc alone. But this bottle would have been perfect for a late brunch repast.

"It's almost morning."

Beverly started to put away the wine.

Vash reached over and grabbed the bottle. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a multi-purpose red Swiss Army knife. She had the bottle open in less than a minute.

"It's evening somewhere." Beverly raised an eyebrow. "You've never had to work with a Vulcan before, have you, Beverly?" Beverly thought of Dr. Selar. And knew the lady had a point. "They can drive you to drink. Stuffy sanctimonious bastards."

Beverly handed Vash a glass, and wine was poured.

"Jean-Luc loved Nella."

Vash took a healthy swig of her wine at this bit of news. "Gossip?"

"No. Fact. Shortly after Nella left the ship, one morning Jean-Luc told me why she'd left."

"Over breakfast, no doubt."

"Yes, over breakfast." Beverly quickly drank all her wine. "Nella is an astrophysicist - Lieutenant Commander. She was assigned to the _Enterprise_. Stellar Cartography. From the beginning, I knew that there was something between them. She's a musician, you see. She got Jean-Luc to play duets with her."

"Clever woman. I'd never have thought of doing that," Vash admitted, relaxing. "So, why was Jean-Luc playing house with you instead of her? You learn how to play his instrument?"

Beverly hid her smile at Vash's bawdy inference. Actually, that was one of the things that she had learned. But her professional mode surface as she answered Vash's question. "They were only together a few weeks. He really was trying to have a personal relationship with one of his officers. He really wanted to make it work." Beverly wearily sighed. "But then, Jean-Luc had to send her into a Bersallis III firestorm. At first, we all thought that she'd died. But when she came back on board, Jean-Luc changed. Shortly after that, she left. Apparently, Jean-Luc couldn't cope with having the woman he loved being under his command."

"And she just went?"

"Yes."

"_You_ didn't," Vash mumbled under her breath. "And Nella left you to pick up the pieces."

"He only spoke of Nella the one time."

"Talking about her or explaining why he wasn't boshing you on board the _Enterprise?"_

Beverly winced at Vash's crude words, but acknowledged that the woman did have a point.

Vash poured some more wine into both of their glasses. "So, once he crashed his ship he felt free to seek out your company."

"Something like that."

"So, why'd he leave you in order to plan on coming to this dig? Did Jean-Luc get bored?"

"Hardly." Beverly thought for a while reviewing dispassionately all that had happened. "Let's just that we had a major disagreement. Now, I'm here to resolve it."

Vash drank some wine and mulled over everything that Beverly had left unsaid. "I take it that you think that this Nella is history?"

"I'm sure he'll always have some sort of care for her," Beverly stiffly replied.

"Then, as far as I can tell, that just leaves you and me." Beverly's expression didn't change even as Vash started to grin. "That man should throw a reunion in a few years for all of his lovers. We'll all be such great friends by then."

Beverly unexpectedly giggled. She hadn't had anything to eat in quite a while, and this wine was going straight to her head. "I think you're confusing lovers, Vash. Jean-Luc would only be throwing a small dinner party for a few of us."

"True. But at least Jean-Luc loved you and this Nella character."

Beverly smiled as she sipped some more wine. She was enjoying this quite pleasant Clarion Montrachet.

"Vash?"

"Yes, Beverly?"

"Don't count Nella out, just yet." She put down her glass. "And don't under any circumstances, assume that because we are working together to find out what has happened to Jean-Luc, that I will just disappear when we find him."

"Beverly, I would have never dreamed of taking you for granted. Or history."

Beverly knew better. "When we find him, after we kiss him and before we kill him for putting us through all of this, then and only then will we get around to discussing my place in Jean-Luc's life."

Vah finished off the bottle of wine. "Beverly?"

"Yes?"

"_I don't want to marry the guy_." She shuddered. "I'd make the galaxy's most terrible captain's wife. And I'd certainly be the worst woman possible for Jean-Luc."

"You'd get no argument about that from me," Beverly darkly mumbled.

"Other than great sex, Q, and a love of antiquities, Jean-Luc and I really do have little in common. Though sometimes, I do make him laugh. Do you make him laugh, Beverly?"

For a second, Beverly remembered the times their laughter had rattled the rafters in her grandmother's cottage. "Yes, I've been known to make Jean-Luc laugh, Vash."

"Good. He needs that in his life long companion."

"You _really_ don't want that job?"

"Disappointed that I'm not going to fight you for him, Beverly?"

"No. That is. I don't understand." Beverly smiled. "You strike me as a rather possessive person when it comes to your lovers."

"Exact opposite, Bev. I've been known to like sharing them - especially all at the same time." Her grin was wicked. "But that's not Jean-Luc's style at all. If you ever do really get him, can I borrow him now and then? I'll give Jean-Luc back. I promise."

Beverly laughed, feeling rather charitable toward the lady for a change. "I'm beginning to understand why, the few rare times when Jean-Luc mentioned you to me, he always prefaced your name with the word _outrageous." _Beverly finished off another glass of wine. "_And if I am ever in the position to do so, I will consider your request."_

Vash's eyes widened. Her original opinion of Beverly Crusher had been that the woman was a prissy ice queen. Now she began to understand what Jean-Luc had seen in the good doctor other than great legs and red hair.

Beverly's panel buzzed. A moment later, Data's visage appeared.

"Doctor. Vash." Data greeted them "I have the itinerary. I have traced the captain as far as SB66. I must investigate further to discover what happened to Captain Picard after that. I will contact you as soon as I know. Data out."

"You were going to tell me about what happened to Data?"

Beverly explained to Vash what really happened to Data and how he now had a chip off of the old block…

Hours later Vash actually got around to introducing Beverly to the crew working the dig, as well as showing her the proto-Vulcan burial chambers that they were excavating under the hillside. There were no descendants of the Vulcan root race currently living on the planet. Some catastrophe or war had driven them off planet many millennia ago. All that was left were extraordinary ruins. This site on Gaudete II was thought to be only the first of what could become a major archaeological find.

Beverly had other things on her mind, though. Neither lady spoke of their nervousness as they waited for Data to call back. When they retired for the night, Beverly invited Vash to share her shuttlecraft. Beverly had her legitimate quarrels with the lady, but she was not a petty person. In her own way, Vash cared for Jean-Luc, and had the right to know of his fate at the same time that Beverly learned of it.

When the call came in the hours before sunrise, Beverly and Vash answered it together.

Data's facial expression was grim.

Beverly matched Data's mood, mentally cursing the day Data had learned how to express his thoughts with just a look.

"Tell me."

"Doctor." Data saw Vash and politely nodded to her. He continued. "A _J. Picard_ was listed as a passenger on the Valosian freighter, the _Unk_. It left SB66 thirty-three days ago."

"What happened?" Beverly's voice was strong, as if this were an ordinary conversation.

"The ship made several of its stops and some unscheduled ones if Starfleet intelligence is correct. The _Unk_ was suspected of being a possible Maquis supply vessel. It dealt in contraband."

"Data, get to the point."

Data deduced that Beverly sounded irritated with him and he strove to understand why. He did have a tendency to provide too much information at times. _Captain Picard used to prevent him from making such a social error._

"Sorry, Doctor. The _Unk_ is listed as missing. Nothing has been heard from them during the past twenty-six days. Several other ships in the area have reported sighting debris."

Beverly paled. This was her only outward sign of response to Data's news.

Vash began to curse and curse under her breath.

"He's not dead," Beverly firmly stated. "He's not dead!"

Data nodded. "I agree that it is possible that Captain Picard is still alive."

Both Beverly and Vash breathed a matching sigh of relief.

Data continued. "There is no evidence the _J. Picard_ on board the _Unk_ was actually Jean-Luc Picard."

Beverly studied Data's expression. "There's more, isn't there?"

"Yes, Doctor."

Beverly waited.

Data said nothing.

Vash shouted, "What?"

"The Ferengi bank accounts that I managed for Captain Picard had recent withdrawals. Unfortunately, I was only informed of the withdrawals and not where, how much or to whom. Since Captain Picard withdrew credits before he began his journey to Gaudete II, I am uncertain as to whether or not Captain Picard actually withdrew the money from the Ferengi accounts or if someone else has gained access. I will continue to investigate."

"Well, now what do we do, Data?" Vash asked.

"Stay where you are. The _Unk_ disappeared in the Alawanir Nebula. Nella Daren is already on her way to join Captain Jellico on board the _Cairo_. Orders will soon be cut for the _Cairo_ and other Federation starships to investigate the disappearance of the _Unk."_

Beverly exchanged a look with Vash. "What do you mean by _orders_, Data?"

"Doctor, I may be returning to Starfleet soon. I will explain when I see you. Until we find out what happened to Captain Picard, I will remain a Starfleet officer." Data pushed a few buttons. "I am sending you all of my files. I will contact all of Captain Picard's friends in your sector and ask them to help in the search."

Vash was bewildered. "Data, if Jean-Luc isn't in Starfleet, why are you rejoining? Why are you getting the bureaucrats involved?"

"In that sector, the disappearance of an officer of the caliber of Captain Jean-Luc Picard is considered to be quite a serious matter," Data explained.

"_Maquis," _was all that Beverly whispered.

**=/\= =/\= =/\=**

Worf purposefully strode into the Troi mansion, ignored Mr. Homm and went straight to the petite grand salon that Lwaxana used for less formal occasions. It was time he resolved things with Deanna. He stopped short on the first marble step of his descent into a room whose walls were lined with hand-painted silk wall paper and had a marble floor in tones of caramel. The room was decorated in cream colored neutrals. These tones were the best choice to backdrop the vividly colored artwork, sculpture and floral arrangements that Lwaxana preferred to display in spacious disarray.

Deanna and Will were there, sitting on a sofa. Their heads were close to each other. They were deep in conversation.

A shaft of pure, primitive emotion stabbed at Worf's heart for a blinding instant. His woman should not be almost touching Will. And then, Worf forced himself to relax. Worf cleared his throat. And then grunted.

Deanna glanced over at her lover and smiled. It was a soft smile, full of welcome, promise and sheer delight at his presence.

Will's greeting stuck in his throat as he watched the silent interplay between Deanna and Worf. He loved Deanna. He loved Worf as a brother. They were his family. But at this moment, all he could think of was that once Deanna had smiled at him like that. And that he had deliberately let her go. Now, Worf was the better man in her life. And he hated the very thought of it.

Deanna's lips tightened as she was buffeted by the emotions from both men. She sighed, suddenly tired at being at the center of the tug-of-war between them.

Worf stiffened and became more reserved. He stood before them and curtly nodded. "Am I disturbing you?"

"Sit down, Worf," Riker ordered. "Relax."

Worf grunted. But he did sit down.

Deanna tried to ease the situation. She brightly asked, "Where's Geordi? Reg? Dr. Brahms?"

"Geordi and Leah are attending some sort of seminar. Your mother recommended it. Mr. Barclay accompanied them."

Deanna thought for a moment. "Oh, yes. Mother is a fervent supporter of the Betazed Institute of Self-Learning."

Riker began to smile again as he imagined Geordi in such sessions.

Deanna glanced over at Riker. "Mother often said that she wished that you'd go to one of their weekend seminars. It might help you get over some of your inhibitions."

On a planet full of people where the cultural norm was not to have inhibitions, Riker idly wondered what they had yet to overcome. _Fear of being overdressed, perhaps_. As for himself, he knew he didn't have any inhibitions to conquer. _Or so he thought…_

Before this strained conversation could continue, Lwaxana sailed into the room, resplendent in a shining wine colored gown billowing about her. Mr. Homm trailed behind her carrying a tray heavily laden with a number of decanters.

Lwaxana cheerily greeted them. "Woof! Will!" Her voiced dropped an octave when she said her daughter's name. "Deanna!"

Worf and Will automatically stood when Lwaxana came into the room. She waved for them to be seated again. Lwaxana chose the seat next to Worf in which to hold court.

"Woofie," she announced.

He was Klingon, and Klingons did not try to alter that which they had no hope of changing. Worf somehow knew that Lwaxana was going to call him _Woof_ or a variation thereof, for the rest of his life. It would be one of the burdens he would have to bear if he was to be part of Deanna's life. He just hoped that the Klingon council never heard of her version of his name. Wars had been started over less.

"Lwaxana."

"Well, your parents are off to Lake Tinoret. They'll be gone for three days. I'm so glad that they took my advice to go there for a short vacation. It's such a beautiful place." She turned her head and fondly smiled at her daughter. "Your father and I had a lovely honeymoon there, Deanna. It's one of my most treasured memories."

She held out her hand up into the air. Mr. Homm automatically handed her a tall glass cylinder with something blue in it.

Worf noticed the silence about the house. "Where is Alexander?" Alexander had taken to racing spaceships about the marble floors. Those toys, when they fell, made quite a clatter. Worf had known that his parents were going to leave for a while, but he had not expected them to take Alexander with them.

"Oh, don't worry about Alexander, Woofie. He's spending the weekend with Chandra and her sons. Her boys were just dieing to have Alexander sleep over." Lwaxana directed her pleasant smile towards Will. "You remember Chandra Xert, don't you Will? The girl has twin boys. Alexander's age." She moaned, a long, drawn-out overly-dramatic sigh. "Just think, Deanna, if you had married when you were supposed to, you could be the mother of ten-year-old boys too." She pointedly stared at Will. "Some people did not play their part."

Will struggled not to remind Lwaxana of all that she had done, many years ago, to prevent him from becoming involved with Deanna. He remembered the threats. The attempted bribes. The assays into career manipulation. The multiple official protests to Ambassador Roper and his commanding officer. In spite of all that, Deanna still became his Imzadi. Yet now, Lwaxana was acting as if it were his fault alone that Deanna was not a wife and mother.

Deanna knew what Will was remembering. She turned her anger on her mother. "How dare you, Mother. You interfered too much then. How dare you criticize us for the results of your actions now!"

"I made a mistake," she blithely replied, ignoring her daughter's words.

Worf didn't understand all that was going on about him, but he knew his Will Riker well enough to know that his friend was very close to losing his temper. He attempted to change the conversation. "I did not give Alexander permission to leave your house."

Lwaxana smiled at Worf. "I did." She nodded at Mr. Homm. "Pour some of that brown stuff for everyone, Mr. Homm." She turned her head back toward Worf, still smiling, and explained, "Deanna told me how much you like prune juice, Worf. I believe that this is some sort of nectar made from Berengarian gack plums. I'm told it is quite…" She glanced at Mr. Homm. "What's that word that Ambassador Roper used? _Exhilarating._ That was it. This wine is quite exhilarating."

Hours later, Deanna would learn that the Ambassador had really said _enervating_, not _exhilarating._

Lwaxana continued. "I thought that you'd like to try it."

Worf took the drink from Mr. Homm, but ignored it. "You had no right to give Alexander permission to leave without first consulting me. Who is this Chandra?"

Will spoke up. "Deanna's best friend. I went to the lady's wedding. It was there I met Deanna." He didn't have to explain to Worf that his first sight of Deanna had been when she was nude for the wedding ceremony. Riker's thoughts were filled with visions of her.

For a brief instance, Deanna remembered too. She smiled at Will. The same smile that she had given him, once a long time ago.

And Worf was uncomfortable with all of this.

Deanna sensed Worf's feelings. She reached over and patted his knee. "Chandra will take good care of Alexander. Don't worry. I know Chandra's sons. Alexander will learn how to be a gentleman, and Torry and Tarry will love learning how to behave like Klingon warriors."

Worf was about to protest that Betazeds could not learn how to be warriors when he realized that quite possibly, Deanna was teasing him. "I should have been consulted." He glared at Lwaxana. "I _will _be consulted in the future." He returned his attention to Deanna. "But, I will trust _your_ judgment when it comes to my son. He may stay with your friends."

With this statement, Worf took a sip of the drink. He froze in shock as the liquor flowed over his taste buds. _The elixir of Sto-Vo-Kor!_ He drank it all. Then he raised his eyes toward Lwaxana and respectfully nodded. "Good."

"Pour Woofie some more, Mr. Homm." She was quite pleased that she had found something for Mr. Worf to like. "I have plenty of this plum wine." She glanced at Mr. Homm. "At least a case?" Homm nodded his assent.

Riker watched the expression on Worf's face as he drank more of the thick apricot colored wine. He was amused by Worf's reaction. Will picked up his goblet and tasted the liquor. And was surprised. Pleasantly so. The wine was tangy. The gelatinous liquid glided like silk over the tongue then liquefied when it contacted body heat. It was different. It was good. He didn't mind it when Mr. Homm added more liquid to his glass. He drank it all.

Deanna drank too, meanwhile wondering what her mother was plotting. Her mother was a blank to her at this moment for she had deliberately raised barrier walls around her thoughts and emotions.

Lwaxana stood and vaguely waved her hand toward the doors to the dining hall. "Shall we?"

Even by Lwaxana's standards, the dinner was strange.

Deanna couldn't shake the feeling that her mother was up to something. She was chatting about every one and every thing that had absolutely nothing to do with any of the people eating around the table. Her conversation was bright and witty. It was her mother's favorite kind of meal. No one else was talking to take away from her place on the center stage.

When they reached the traditional fruit course stage of the meal, Mr. Homm interrupted his traditional gonging to answer a summons. Moments later he returned and bowed before Mr. Worf. He pointed in the direction of the side room that contained a terminal. Worf left to go see who wanted him.

Lwaxana directed a very friendly smile toward Will. "It's such a lovely evening, Captain Riker. Why don't you stroll about the gardens before Mr. Homm serves the dessert course."

Riker hid his surprise at this hint. Lwaxana couldn't be suggesting what he thought that she was suggesting. He instinctively looked at Deanna, willing to follow her lead when it came to handling her mother.

Deanna stood. She sweetly smiled at her mother. "What a nice idea, Mother. It's a pleasant evening. We'll be back shortly."

The minute they were past the terrace doors, Riker leaned over and whispered, "What the hell was that all about?"

"I don't know. I can't _read_ Mother tonight. All I know is that she is scheming."

They walked in the direction of one of the flaming orchid pools that flanked this formal terrace by the dining hall.

"I thought that she approved of your relationship with Worf."

"I thought so, too."

"Then why would she practically order us to go on a romantic evening stroll?"

"She _did_ order us, Will." Deanna sighed and leaned into Will's arms. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she looked up into his face, trying to _read_ him too. "I don't know what's going on. And I am getting so tired of trying to stay one step ahead of her." She slightly chucked. "And ahead of you."

"What? What have I done?"

"Why did you come here, Will?"

"I wanted to see you. And Worf."

"After all the years that we've known each other, Will, you should have learned not to lie to me - especially about your feelings."

"Deanna…"

Overhead, a night bird sang a sweet song of love.

For a second, memories that this birdsong evoked overwhelmed both of them. Instinctively, naturally, Will bent his head. He gazed into her dark eyes; luminous eyes that haunted him wherever he went. He twined his fingers in her hair, and lowered his mouth to hers, his tongue reaching out to touch her lips. Her mouth opened beneath his touch.

He had not kissed her like this since the time that they had been lovers at Janaran Falls, other than in his dreams. It had been a long time since he'd held Deanna in his arms. He opened up his heart, and let all of his chaotic emotions flood through their contact.

Her mouth was warm and soft. All considerations of their actions disappeared beneath what they were feeling. Bright passion flared, beyond just a mere physical need. As intimate as they had once been, it was nothing compared to the strong wall of desire that suddenly welled up between them. She moaned.

He kissed her deeply. And when it was finished, he removed his mouth from hers, and looked at her, almost frightened by the sudden intensity of feeling that was filling his soul.

_What had he done…_

"_**Damn you, Will Riker!"**_ burst into his consciousness. Deanna pulled away from him. He dropped his arms, releasing her.

Tears filled her eyes, choking in her throat as she looked at him. "_Why_, Will? _Why _did you have to do this to me? _Why _did you come back? _Why couldn't you leave me alone?"_

"_Deanna…_"

She turned and fled, racing back to the house. She stopped when she saw Worf standing on the terrace steps. He caught her in his arms, embracing her for just a moment.

"I will go," he whispered, releasing her.

"**NO!"** She angrily looked behind her, as Will followed her to the terrace. _"NO!_" she repeated, grabbing Worf's arm when he tried to move away.

"I cannot stay." He looked into his beloved's face. "If I stay, I will hurt you. Or my friend."

Riker stepped onto the terrace. Guilt was clearly visible on his face.

"Worf… Deanna…" He didn't know what to say to them.

Lwaxana interrupted this little tableau with the command, 'Inside. All of you." Gone was the effervescent woman who seemed more concerned about the color of her hair than the company that her daughter kept. "Sit!" she ordered gesturing to a group of low couches clustered by a small fountain. There was an edge to her voice; a strength of undefeatable, adamantine purpose.

Riker suddenly saw the woman who wore the rank of Ambassador so well. He knew why she'd

deserved such a title. And why Captain Picard used to mutter something about _a dame formidable._

"What, Mother?" Deanna tried to control her voice, but her emotions were running riot. She felt more like mindlessly screaming than listening to her mother.

"Sit!" This time it wasn't just an order. It was a royal command. Deanna wearily complied. She wasn't surprised when Riker and Worf took positions directly opposite each other. Their simmering emotions were sufficient to give her the start of another headache.

She reached over and poured herself some more of the peach brown Berengarian liquor, from one of the several decanters of the stuff that Mr. Homm had placed on the stone cocktail table that was in the center of this furniture grouping. As a matter of habit, she poured liquid into other glasses as well. If Worf's hands were occupied with the holding of a glass, he might be less inclined to do other things with them - like killing Will Riker.

Lwaxana looked at each and every one of them subjecting them to the kind of stare that Deanna usually did her best to avoid at all costs.

"You will resolve this matter between you," she dictated. "I have been most patient waiting for you to make up your minds. But, enough is enough." She was on the verge of losing her temper. _"I will not have my daughter hurt by the likes of you! And you __**are**__ hurting her! All of you will reconcile your differences - __**now!**_

She swiftly pivoted, her ornate robes swishing about her. "Mr. Homm!" she ordered. "Woof, Will and Deanna are not to leave this room until they have put their differences to bed!" Only Lwaxana Troi could get away with stomping her foot and not look absolutely ridiculous or childish.

"This is going to be a long night," Riker muttered to himself as he reached for his glass. He drained it in one gulp, then poured a full glass for his next drink.

Worf looked expectantly at Deanna. She did nothing. A steely eyed glare met his gaze when he turned toward Lwaxana. She was silently challenging him. Worf knew that Mr. Homm could not physically keep him here. Unlike Will or Deanna, he was still wearing his comm badge. He could leave, without hurting anyone. But he knew that if he did leave, Lwaxana Troi would never welcome him into her home again. And that would hurt Deanna. He had no choice. He stayed, grabbing a large glass off of the tray, and filled it to the brim. He drank all of it.

"It's settled, then," Lwaxana announced when no one moved to leave. She walked over to her daughter and kissed her cheek. "_Choose carefully, Little One. I will come if you summon me."_ She stood, then explained out loud, "I am off to the Trekori reception. Duty calls." With that, she left the room leaving in her wake three wary, nervous people.

"Mother…" Deanna groaned out loud.

Suddenly Will's nervous laughter broke the silence. "You can say that again, Deanna."

"She will," Worf glumly added. He stared at Deanna. "Speak," he ordered.

Deanna drank instead, thinking that she was glad that the wine was synthehol.

**=/\= =/\= =/\=**

"Leah, there's got to be some sort of mistake here." Geordi held up his padd. "I understand about all of the fifteen step classes that I need to attend, and the individual counseling - but what about all of these other lectures? I'd hoped that we'd have some time to ourselves."

Leah briefly brushed her fingers against his cheek before she took the padd from his hand. She stepped away from him into the sunlight.

The suite that they were sharing at the resource center was quite lovely; airy, full of light from walls and ceilings of windows, filled with flowering plants and tinkling table fountains. And at night, their bed was a platform in the center of a room surrounded only by swaying waffa trees under the stars.

Leah studied the schedule. "What is the difficulty, Geordi? This seems right."

"Those afternoon and evening sessions that they have listed - what are they? Family planning? Dynamics of couple relationships?"

Leah grinned to herself, but kept her voice quite calm as she explained. "The Betazeds offer such a wide variety of marital counseling courses, I thought that it would be foolish not to avail ourselves of them while we were here."

It took Geordi a moment to comprehend Leah's use of the word _marital._

"Huh?"

She put down the padd and moved closer to him. "Geordi, I spent several years of my life at the Vulcan Science Academy. Besides acquiring an intense study of nonlinear science theory as a hobby, the only other thing I learned from our fellow Vulcan scientists is that Vulcan logic when applied to personal relationships is not such a bad idea. What do you think?"

Geordi shook his head, still distracted by Leah's choice of words. Suddenly he understood something that she'd just said. "_Nonlinear…_ Leah! What does the _chaos theory _have to do with our relationship?"

"Everything or nothing. You decide." She put her arms around his neck. "I wish I'd applied Vulcan logic to my life sooner."

"Uh, meaning?"

"I spent seven years of my life waiting for my ex-husband to understand me. That wasn't logical. I don't intend to waste any more time."

"Leah…" He couldn't think of a single thing to say when he heard the laughter in her voice.

"It would be illogical of me, Mr. LaForge, to let you get away. Where else would I find a man who speaks my language - in and out of bed. Therefore, the sooner that you are my husband, the better."

"Uh, Leah?" he whispered.

"Just say _yes_, Geordi. That's all you have to do."

"Leah?" he gasped.

"Remember that story of the alternate future that your Captain Picard told you about?" Geordi weakly nodded in agreement. "Well, I like that possible future. Six kids. Becoming the head of the Daystrom Institute. Being married to you. Sounds like a good life to me."

"Leah, that future won't happen. The _Enterprise_ existed there - not here."

"So? Who says that at least some of it can't turn out right?"

"Leah!"

She kissed him. Then she pulled off his visor and put it on the table. And then she kissed him again until they were both breathless. And then he kissed her back, lowering her to the floor, so that they were now in a passionate clinch lying on a very thick and comfortable carpet. He was glad that the windows were one-way. Even on a planet of exhibitionists, there were some things that Geordi did not care to publicly demonstrate.

"Say yes, Geordi," Leah whispered.

"_Yes, Geordi_," he dutifully answered.

Leah stopped kissing him, stilling her hands from their erotic explorations. "Geordi."

"Yes, Leah?"

"Mr. Data was a greater influence on you than you realize."

**=/\= =/\= =/\=**

He pressed his naked length against her, reveling in the press of flesh against flesh. He touched her with his teeth, demonstrating with precise bites the fine line that there was between pleasure and pain. She nipped him back, displaying her acquired skills from the lessons that he'd taught her.

His arousal, his need to plunge in her was painfully throbbing, but she wasn't ready for him again - not just yet. His fingers probed, touching between her legs, parting the tender flesh to establish a stroking rhythm within her womanhood. She grew wetter with his manipulations, with his fingers slick from her essences, rubbing back and forth in her channel. And when she was ready, mutely begging him with her body, he penetrated her. She stopped moving, momentarily overcome by his force. She surrendered again, forgetting all of her doubts and their problems. She was absorbed by the universe of him. And he found this unbelievably exciting. He pleasured her until she could stand no more. Then he silenced her cries with his mouth as he took his own gratification.

And when they could breathe again, she rolled over onto his chest and went back to sleep. Deanna decided that she liked these hours the best when she was in Worf's bed. He most definitely was what her father used to call a _morning person._

When their breathing was even, and when they both were asleep, Will Riker carefully inched his way from the place where he'd been lying frozen in fear at being noticed. He was now moving toward the edge of the bed. Riker was aghast with what had just happened. He had no recollection of somehow ending up in what he could only guess was Deanna's bed. He just knew that he had to get out of it before he awakened a now sleeping Klingon. There was no way he could explain this situation until he had an accounting of it for himself.

Maybe they'd been drugged. One minute the three of them were sitting around a table arguing. The next, he was here, wherever here was. He couldn't even guess what time it was. He automatically reached for his comm badge hoping to whisper his way back to some safe place. It didn't matter if the place of transporting was public. This was Betazed, after all. Nude people were not that uncommon. It was one of the few planets where a nude Starfleet officer could transport about and it would not end up as part of his permanent service record.

But then he remembered he'd been wearing his civvies when he'd come to dinner. And he had left his comm badge behind. Then he noticed something else. In the dim lighting he couldn't see any clothes - belonging to any of them.

_Naked. No comm badge. No clothes. Worf and Deanna in post-coital bliss. What a great way to start the day. _Assuming, of course, that Worf wouldn't kill him if Worf awakened within the next few minutes, before Will Riker could escape from the room. He stilled at the thought that the door might be locked. _No… his luck couldn't be that bad…_

She was dreaming of Will again. Passionate dreams. _The way he reveled in her breasts worshipping them with his tongue. How he enjoyed bringing pleasure to her in so many varied ways before he would seek his own satisfaction. The way he found joy in her pleasure. And then their pleasure. How he would make love for hours… _

She stirred, tensing against Worf's chest, until she was positive that it was her Klingon warrior's chest. That last dream of hers - it had seemed so dramatically real. But she was resting in Worf's arms - and no one else's.

Slowly, carefully, Will descended in a controlled slide onto the floor from underneath the bedcovers. For a moment, he debated hiding under the bed until after Deanna and Worf had left the room. But he doubted if Worf's keen senses when they weren't being distracted by Deanna, would miss the fact that there was another man present in the room. Will Riker really didn't want his epitaph to contain any comments about being murdered by a jealous lover after being found hiding under a bed. Will had spent too much of his life being peerless, to have his final moments turned into a farcical cliché, the fodder of barroom gossips for years to come. Besides, he didn't think he could hide through another lovemaking session between Worf and Deanna. Once had been unbearable torture. _He'd never forget this moment. Or his desire to join them._

On his hands and knees, he slowly moved toward the nearest door. If he stayed low enough, he might be able to stay out of the line of sight of the couple in the bed until he opened the door. Then he'd run like hell and hope that Worf would be too confused to be able to take off after him instantaneously. If he still was in Lwaxana's house, he had a fighting chance to make it to a comm panel and request emergency beam out before Worf came roaring by. If not, well, he'd faced death every day. He just had never imagined death by his Klingon friend.

Will then discovered something. The almost tropical humidity of the current weather system gave the air just enough moisture so that his bare flesh wanted to stick to the marble floors. Every time he moved, his flesh made sucking sounds. Curses and prayers mingled in Riker's thoughts as he steadily crawled toward the door.

From behind him, someone moved in the bed. A voice murmured something, in what sounded like Klingonese. Will turned his head to see if he was suddenly in greater peril.

By the time he realized that the light pattern on the floor had changed - that the door had silently swung open - it was too late. When he turned his head back, he was staring at a set of expertly pedicured toes protruding from ridiculous-looking strappy sandals. The toenail color was unusual, glowing bright orange even in this low lighting.

Will Riker then knew that if he survived the next ten minutes, he would be the luckiest man in the galaxy.

"Why, Captain. Whatever are you doing crawling down on the floor?" Lwaxana's voice was cheerful, as her words broke the quiet of the early morning. She flicked on a light.

Riker reacted instinctively. He reared up, offsetting Lwaxana's balance. The silver tray Lwaxana was carrying came crashing down on his head.

Between her screams and his involuntary ouches when naked flesh encountered pottery shards, Riker surrendered to the inevitable.

He was doomed.

"_MOTHER! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!"_ Deanna screeched. She was finding it impossible to believe that her Mother had dared to invade her own daughter's bed chamber. She raised herself up on her elbows. And then, Deanna was bereft of speech. She could not believe that she was seeing a bare behind. Little gasping sounds came from her throat as she tried to find the strength to speak.

"_MRS. TROI!_" Worf bellowed, now wide awake. He quickly sat up. And then wondered if he had gone insane. "Q! Where are you?" It was the only conceivable explanation in a world gone mad.

"Q, who?" Mrs. Troi politely asked. She bent down and extended her hand toward Will. "Do you need assistance in getting up, Captain Riker?"

Worf leapt out of the bed, bounding over to Riker and Lwaxana. He reached down and picked Will up, crushing him hard against his chest. Will reacted in pain.

Deanna scrambled over the side of the bed, suddenly understanding how close Worf was to going over the edge. The Klingon was furious, in a blood rage state, ready to destroy a lifetime of civilized behavior over one incomprehensible act.

And then Deanna saw what was on the floor. Though the teapot and cups had shattered, there were three intact saucers along with some toast, and prune Danish scattered about under her mother's feet.

"_WORF! PUT WILL DOWN!" _she ordered. When he didn't, she ran over to him and socked him hard on the upper arm. _"Down, Worf! NOW!"_

Worf dropped Riker.

Deanna whirled about, her breasts heaving as she bellowed at her mother, _**"MOTHER! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"**_

The two men stopped moving as they watched, with almost fatal fascination as mother and daughter, finally squared off against each other.

"_What do you mean, Little One - what have I done…"_

"_You were bringing in three sets of cups and saucers, Mother! How __**DARE**__ you! __**YOU**__ set all of this up! What did you do - drug the wine?"_

Lwaxana royally sniffed. And then, haughtily sniffed again.

"Lwaxana," Will croaked. Pain shot through his sides as he tried to draw a deep breath. He had a suspicion that Worf had just cracked several of his ribs.

She beatifically smiled over at Will. "Yes, Captain? What can I do for you?"

"If you are responsible for the sleeping arrangements, if all of this mess is the result of your plotting, _you will pay."_

Lwaxana tched-tched at his words. "Captain, what must you think of me, if you think that I'd do something like this to my only living daughter." She sniffed again. "_Whatever __this__ is…"_

She glanced slyly over at Worf and Deanna.

"Stop the act, Mother," Deanna ordered.

Lwaxana ignored her daughter. "I did not plan this…" She waved her hand in the direction of the bed. She smiled at her daughter. "And you may be the first Betazed female to decide upon having two husbands at the same time _before _she reaches _The Phase_." She looked over at Worf and Will. "Most males of any species are so fragile, you know They rarely survive _The Phase_… intact."

"What is _the Phase_?" Worf's voice was hoarse. It was the first coherent thing he'd said. Lwaxana's words about _husbands_ did not bother him. It was her other words that caused him to be perplexed.

"I'll explain later, Worf," Will commented, amusement warring with anger over Lwaxana's actions. Her use of the word _husbands_ did bother him. He focused his attention Lwaxana. "If you didn't trap us, who did? Someone had to drug us, bring us to the bed, undress us, and take all of our clothing."

Lwaxana had the good grace to blush. "Well, Mr. Homm did that."

Deanna didn't know whether to groan or cry. She was perilously close to doing both.

Lwaxana stiffened, sensing her daughter's distress. "It's not my fault, Deanna! I didn't know that when I told Mr. Homm to keep you together until it was time to put you to bed that he was taking my instructions _literally."_

Her mother's emotions seemed so sincere. But there was something that she still was keeping hidden.

"And the wine, Mother?"

Lwaxana's blush deepened. "I didn't know that the Berengarian gack wine had similarities to the Vulcan ta'liah wines."

Deanna groaned for she knew that ta'liah was a wine drunk during pon farr. She was about to start a tirade, castigating her mother, when Mr. Homm entered the room, turning up the lighting some more. He was carrying all of their missing clothing, now freshly cleaned and pressed.

And where there was light, all could see. Deanna froze in shock as she looked upon fresh love bites on Will Riker's shoulders and neck. And long, familiar looking scratches on his arms and back. She collapsed onto the bed, moaning.

_It hadn't been an erotic dream! She had literally slept and physically mated with both of the men in her life - in the same bed._

Not exactly a religious person, nevertheless, her mind was filled with spiritual appeals as she prayed that Worf wouldn't notice the injuries to Will Riker's body. For Worf's own body bore similar love marks.

Lwaxana nodded toward Mr. Homm. "Clear up this mess." But she didn't point at the broken pottery. She mentally informed her daughter, _"Don't worry, Little One. Trust your mother…"_

A minute later, Deanna stared in disbelief as her Mother just simply left the room.

"What did she say?" Will commanded Deanna to tell him.

On the verge of hysterical laughter, Deanna explained, "Mother has a very practical viewpoint about all of this. About us."

They joined her on the bed, each gingerly sitting to either side of her, both deliberately trying to ignore her nudity and their nakedness and the whole bloody situation. Riker had considered himself to be a somewhat sophisticated individual when it came to matters of the flesh. _But a ménage a'Troi had never been one of his possibilities…_

"What?" both men asked together. "What did you Mother tell you?"

"That if I get pregnant, we'll have no problem figuring out which one of you is the father…"

**=/\= =/\= =/\=**

Jean-Luc Picard stretched, and then stretched again. He was relaxed, comfortable and at peace with himself, a rare happenstance in the circumstances of his life.

Ro Laren lifted her head up off of his naked chest. "Admit it," she teased. "You like hanging around asteroid belts. Something about the inherent dangers of crashing big rocks appeals to your gambling nature."

Picard reached over and pressed a kiss against her temple. "_You_ appeal to my gambling nature, Ro Laren. The possibility that we might die at any second does not." Picard automatically glanced down the hall toward the bridge. He didn't see or hear any warnings. Everything appeared to be functioning properly. He relaxed backwards onto the rather large captain's bed (for a space ship).

"The asteroid belts are an old trader's trick," Picard explained.

"All of us _old_ traders know that trick, Johnny. But few have the piloting skills that you do to actually do it." She dramatically sighed. "You could make a fortune if you ever decide to become a smuggler."

Picard laughed. "At least you've given up on the idea of making me Maquis."

"Oh, I haven't given up on you, Johnny. But once you are out here long enough your own sense of righteousness will do that." She sighed again. "Now, tell me about my piloting abilities, amongst my other skills…"

Picard paused, and studied the lady toying with his chest hairs. "You are fishing for compliments."

"Of course I am. I'm the one who found the cavern where we are hiding out with the _Starbuck._ I flew the ship in there, and made a perfect landing." She beamed at him. "All you did was land this tub of bolts, beam me over and turn on the cloaking device."

"After successfully shaking the pirates tailing us," he added.

"Don't you mean deliberately putting this pretty ship through her battle paces? Those Ptach! that followed us were no match for you." She changed the tone of their conversation. "Those pirates will be waiting for us to rendezvous with the _Adama_ in thirty hours."

"I know. You'll go in as usual with the _Starbuck_. I'll follow in the _Galen_ keeping her cloaked."

"_The Galen._ I like the name you've chosen for this ship. She's a beauty."

Picard had to agree, feeling a surprising sense of pride of ownership in this fleet little ship. The _Galen_ could do warp 9.7 if its captain felt like ignoring Federation speed limit mandates. She had a functioning top-of-the-line cloaking device. Besides a battery of phasers that had once belonged to a Federation starship, the _Galen _was also armed with both photon torpedoes and quantum torpedoes, which were the latest top-secret armament that Starfleet had to offer. Picard had thought that only Defiant-class ships had quantum torpedoes. Evidently, Starfleet had some serious problems with the sector's quartermaster.

The _Galen_ also had three full-service replicators, three separate areas to the ship, plus cargo space, sleeping quarters with bathing facilities for a crew of four, and the biggest bed that Picard had ever seen in a ship this size. She also had plenty of panels that gleamed in the star light. He liked that too.

Ro Laren teased him that the bed size was the major point that had sold him on the _Galen._

The _Galen_ was also the first space ship that Picard had ever actually owned. Every other ship in his life had belonged to Starfleet. The _Galen_ belonged to him. He didn't feeling inclined to share her.

He moved aside when Laren slid out of bed. Moments later she returned, doing a balancing act with two plates and two mugs.

"Two teas, Earl Grey, hot," she stated. "And hot hasperat. You ever have hasperat before, Jean-Luc?"

"No. I've never had the pleasure."

"Well, if this stuff is any good, it will give you a lot of vim and energy." She handed him the mugs. "And vigor. Definitely vigor."

He sat up, took the mugs from her and placed them on the ledge beside the bed. She then gracefully joined him in bed, without dropping the plates.

"No forks?"

"No need…"

He looked at the plate of hasperat. He had a suspicion that it might be a little greasy.

"It's spicy," she warned.

"I've eaten Klingon food and survived." He brushed off her warning. He picked up the hasperat and took a large bite. Years of discipline were the only reason he didn't spit the food out instinctively. To say that this hasperat was spicy was an understatement. His sinuses watered after he swallowed a second bite. Then he drank all of his tea.

"Vim, you said?" His voice broke. He tried not to choke as he spoke.

"Hasperat can rejuvenate lots of things."

He was about to state his rejoinder when he had a sudden thought. "The replicator was programmed for this?"

"Yes, as well as several other Bajoran foods including kava cake."

"So, the former owners of this ship that has no current legitimate registry were Bajoran."

"Or Cardassians with a taste for Bajoran cooking," Ro added.

Picard agreed with her. "You noticed some of the wiring too."

"Definitely Cardassian schematics." She finished off her breakfast. "Pakled based technology, Romulan cloaking device, Tholian connectors and Federation Heisenberg compensators. This ship is a real mixed bag of technology." She drank her tea. "What are you going to do about the registration?"

"Claim right of salvage through the Klingon Empire when we get to Federation space."

"Hopefully before we run into any Starfleet patrol ships. Though I must admit it would be fun to see you try to talk your way out of being caught by a Federation patrol ship." She licked her fingers clean after she placed her plate and mug on the deck. She leaned back against a padded bulkhead. "So, what did you think of the hasperat?"

"It has its uses." He reached over and wiped his fingers on the edge of the sheet. He could tell that she didn't like his answer. "Especially the vigor part," he teased.

She brought her knees up and rested her chin on them, tucking the majority of the metallic sheet about her legs. And then she just looked at him wide eyes, expectant.

Her state made him nervous. He could sense something behind her look. He proceeded cautiously. "You have something on your mind, Laren?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"Did you really want me to come back to France with you?"

"Yes."

"You'd expect me to quit the Maquis?"

"Naturally."

"What if I say I do, but really decide to spy for the Maquis?"

"You'd not break your word to me. Besides, the heart of the French wine making region will provide you with little tactical knowledge for the Maquis. And I know that you are a lousy spy. I've seen you in action, remember?"

"Something tells me that I should be insulted."

He shook his head. "There are some things that you do very well, Ro Laren. The ability to lie to me has not been one of them."

She focused on some of his words. "So, what things do you think that I'm good at?"

He smiled. "When you used to sit at the helm so full of arrogance…"

"Confidence," she corrected.

"When you sat at the _Enterprise's_ helm, I was secure in the fact that you were there, confident that the very best was piloting my star ship."

"I took the post that was once held by a fourteen year old kid, Jean-Luc. I didn't have to go that far to improve upon that performance."

"Wesley was a better pilot that you, Ro."

She'd heard enough about Wesley Crusher to know that he was better at just about everything else. But at least when she quit Starfleet, she had not ended up living on a Cardassian controlled planet.

She looked away from him, fighting the emotions that were swelling within her breast. She had to confront them. "Why don't you want me to love you, Jean-Luc?"

He should not have been surprised at her use of the word _love._ But he was. She was challenging him.

"True to form, Ro Laren…"

"It would be quite easy for me to love you, Jean-Luc Picard. But somehow, I think that you wouldn't want that to happen."

He had no words to say to her. She was only speaking the truth.

"I don't know if I could _not_ fall in love with you if I went with you to France, Johnny. I like the idea of getting away from all of this…" She gestured about. "But I wouldn't be getting away from you if I went. And that could create all sorts of problems."

For a time, he did not say anything. But he owed her some kind of explanation.

"Under ordinary circumstances…"

"We'd never have become lovers. This I know, Captain Jean-Luc Picard."

"But since we are lovers… and friends…"

Her smile was tender as she gazed at him. "Friends. Yes, we are that at least, Jean-Luc."

"I love someone else."

Now it was her turn to retreat into silence. "I see. You can fuck me and think of someone else at the same time?"

"_NO!_ That is, when I am with you, I am not thinking… I would not do that to you. Or her."

"Well then, why aren't you with her?"

"That is a question, Laren, I've been asking myself every day since I left Caldos."

Ro Laren froze. "Caldos?"

He didn't notice her stillness. "Yes, I was living there for a while."

"_YOU BASTARD!_" She kicked him hard, shoving him out of bed. He hit the deck with a thud.

"Uh… what?" He tried to get up.

She jumped on him, pummeling him with her fists.

"Why?" he groaned, ducking from her hits. He didn't want to retaliate, but he did start to consider putting her in a hammer lock.

"_BEVERLY_!" She said the name as if it explained everything.

"What?"

"Beverly is my friend. How could you!"

She was still swinging at him when he suddenly rolled, bringing her body underneath his own. He trapped her arms by the wrists, and held her until she stopped struggling.

"Beverly is my friend too."

"You love her!"

"Yes."

"I would have never…"

"I know that, Laren. But, beyond the first night, everything that has happened between us was voluntary on both sides."

"I don't understand." She didn't want to cry even though she felt like it. Badly.

"Beverly and I parted. That's why I was on my way to Gaudete II." He lightly kissed her on the forehead. "I did not anticipate what has happened between us;. But, I will not deny the strength of our relationship, either. I did choose to continue our relationship, Laren."

"You're a bastard, Jean-Luc Picard."

"If I had arranged beforehand for us to become lovers, then I would indeed be guilty of your charge."

"What are you going to tell Beverly?"

"_If _I ever see her again, _I will tell her the truth."_

"And until then?"

He looked down at her and smiled. "I am glad that I met you, Ro Laren." He brushed aside some of her bangs that had strayed.

"I wonder if I will say the same when you leave," she complained, before she reached up to kiss him.

A long time later he commented, "I don't know why men speak so disparagingly of a relationship with Bajoran women. I, for one, have found you entrancing."

She suddenly laughed. "That's because I've always treated you with consideration and kindness. I've been keeping my true virago nature hidden from you."

"Laren, I learned of your true nature a long time ago." He picked her up and deposited her back on the bed. "I'm getting too old for decks."

Her grin was devilish. "Wanna bet?"

He groaned and decided to overwhelm her with kisses. Hours later, when he was so tired and sated that he could barely move, after surviving having her on both the deck as well as the bed, he rolled her onto his chest and kissed the top of her head.

"We won't be able to speak freely when we return to the _Adama."_

"That is, if Ragner lets you live. I have a feeling that he's going to have a special welcoming party for the return of the _great Starfleet Captain, Jean-Luc Picard. _He's going to figure that you played him for a fool. That we both did. And he would be right."

"You're right, of course." He toyed with her hair as he thought out loud. "Can Ragner be bought? Bribed?"

She recoiled in mock horror. "You? Thinking of bribing someone? Imagine that!"

"Bribery is infinitely preferable if it helps me to avoid being spaced, Ro Laren."

"True." She thought for a moment considering what Ragner needed. "Ragner's got a pretty good income from his dealings. His problem is that there are quite a few places where all the money on the planet still isn't enough to let him land. Like I said before, he may help the Maquis on some matters, but we use him only because we do not have much of a choice. And he needs us in order to keep his supplies coming from the planets where he is at the top of their _shoot on sight_ list."

"So, what does he need?"

"A couple of photon torpedoes should be enough to keep him happy. And I certainly wouldn't let him or any of his men on board this ship. Hell, I'd even keep the _Galen_ cloaked around him, if I could. The less he knows about this jewel, the better." She looked at him and kissed his shoulder. "Ragner has killed men just to get his hands on a bar of latinum. He'd murder you, me, Mela and her kids if he thought it could gain him the _Galen._"

"Why did he rescue me in the first place?"

"He needed a cook. You intrigued him. And Ragner does no evil if he doesn't have to. He is a practical villain. He does have a code of ethics. They're just not the Maquis' or yours."

Picard nodded, understanding her warnings.

"In a few hours, we'll be rejoining the _Adama_," she sighed, trying to keep the trembling of her voice under control.

"We may never be together again, like this," he added, somewhat surprised by the sense of loss that he was feeling.

"I just want to say, _Captain…"_

He silenced her by kissing her one more time.

"_Lieutenant,_ certain circumstances were beyond our control. But, if I ever have to go aroaming the galaxy again as a space pirate, you would be my first choice of companions." His smiled faded as he turned to more serious thoughts. "If you ever need me, I'll be there, Ro Laren. Get word to Keiko or Data. I am in your debt." He kissed her forehead again. "And try not to break too many Federation laws along the way. I may be many things - but I am not a miracle worker or a lawyer. I do have my limits especially if you keep on violating Federation laws." He smiled, reassuringly. "There are some prisons that even I cannot break you out of, Ro."

She grinned as she started to make love to him one more time. "About those limits, Jean-Luc. I don't know. I know I don't have any. And I don't think that you have any too…"

**=/\= =/\= =/\=**

Twenty hours later, Beverly's comm screen beeped. She was alone in the craft as she answered it. Expecting Data, she was somewhat pleased and surprised to see Will Riker on the other end.

His expression was quite grim, yet determined. "Data just got a hold of us. Told me. Told us - about Jean-Luc."

She read the comm information. "You're on Betazed?"

"It's too long a story to tell. Some of us were on shore leave. I'm going back to G-6 to assign my cadets to a search exercise. With my squad of fighter ships, we'll be able to cover a lot more space than most other ships." He glanced over to his side. "Worf will literally bring in the Marines."

"That's good, Will."

Worf walked over to stand by Captain Riker. "Doctor," he greeted her. "I have communicated with my brother. The Klingon fleet in the sectors will search. We will find the captain."

Will took over the screen again. "Lwaxana Troi is rallying her troops too. I'm not sure how many _favors_ the Ambassador is pulling in, but it is a considerable number. Even some non-aligned planets are now searching for the captain." He paused and stared at Beverly for a moment. "Beverly, I have to ask this question. And, it's better that I do the asking than some Admiral. Starfleet has already started questioning Jean-Luc's actions."

"They think he might have gone over to the Maquis." She stated the obvious.

"Yes. They were wondering why he took such a disreputable tramp ship on such a circuitous route to Gaudete II…"

"That's not such a deep dark secret, Will. There's no hidden agenda behind Jean-Luc's travel plans. Jean-Luc couldn't get passage on a Starfleet vessel. He had to pay his own way. Having to use only civilian transportation limited his choices and added weeks on to his travel time. I think he just took the cheapest ships available to him, and didn't really bother checking into their backgrounds other than making sure that they were space worthy."

Riker was shocked by her words. "What do you mean _he couldn't get passage on any Starfleet vessel?_ I do not understand."

"Starfleet regulations about officers on a leave of absence rather than shore leave prevented him from using Starfleet vessels for transportation. He was upset about it at the time. Ensign Steck was adamant about the following of Starfleet regulations."

Riker made a mental note to look up one Ensign Steck when he had the time. If a great man's life or career was lost because an ensign was foolish enough not to accommodate a man of Jean-Luc's stature, his head would roll.

"And you know how proper Jean-Luc can be at times not even wanting to give the appearance of behavior that some would deem inappropriate. I'm sure he didn't even consider calling in any of his personal markers to try and get a ride on any Starfleet vessel."

"So Beverly, you don't think that Jean-Luc would join the Maquis?"

She hesitated for a second. Will already had his answer before she asked, "What do you think, Will?"

Will didn't know how to answer her. They both knew of the pressures that had tested Jean-Luc over the past few months. It was remotely possible that under certain trying circumstances, Jean-Luc Picard could consider the Maquis to be a possible solution to his problems.

"Stay where you are, Beverly. I'll make Gaudete II the center of the search. You will coordinate the search efforts, and any possible medical needs. Once Data gets to you, he'll keep track of the details. Riker out."

"Beverly, out," she whispered to a blank screen. Unvoiced fears troubled her. Even if everything that had happened to Jean-Luc during the past few weeks was perfectly innocent, assuming of course that he was still among the living, even if he had done nothing more improper other than to take a berth on a cargo ship with a questionable reputation, she knew that there were certain people at Starfleet command who would use any perceived transgression, to crucify him.

**=/\= =/\= =/\=**

Even though he had slept for six hours, Jean-Luc still felt tired. He'd been living on the edge of his nerves for too many days to completely relax. And recuperate. Jean-Luc thought longingly of the times he'd napped in front of a fireplace on Caldos. He felt like he could use a week in front of that fireplace before he would consider himself feeling normal again.

At least he had his new toy, the _Galen, _to keep him occupied. He could rest later. She was a responsive ship, equal to the best that Starfleet had to offer. He knew how much Will Riker or Geordi would enjoy getting their hands on her. And if he ever did get a ship of his own again, he'd make the _Galen_ his captain's yacht.

For the first time he considered becoming an independent trader because it would mean that he could fly this ship wherever he wished to go. And that drew him. Freedom from the responsibilities that sometimes in the past, had been so absolutely overwhelming that he had never even thought of his own self for days, had its own appeal too. The captain of a starship was never free from his duties, even on shore leave. There was also the burden of the image that he felt had been part of his duty to maintain.

For the first time in a very long time his immediate concerns only included staying alive, rescuing Mela and her family, actually making it to the dig on Gaudete II and Ro Laren - a far cry from the days when he'd been answerable for the lives of over a thousand people every breathing minute of his life. In spite of all of the serious life-and-death problems that faced him in the immediate future, he actually was having an adventure. He was accountable to no one but himself. And he had to admit to himself, in the quiet hours of a late night watch, that he was having _fun._

After double checking all of his controls, he walked over to the nearest replicator and ordered tea, and a double strong double sweet coffee for Laren. Mugs in hand, he went to his cabin, and sat on the edge of the bed. Putting down the mugs, he gently tapped her shoulder, rousing her from her sleep.

"Time to go, Ro."

"'Nother five minutes," she mumbled into the pillow.

"Your coffee will be cold by then," he argued.

"You drink it."

"I've already got my Earl Grey. Amazing how DaiMon Behlk knew my preferences and then programmed them into the replicators."

She rolled over and raised one eye lid. "You're not going to stop talking, are you? You're a tyrant."

"I know."

"You're the one who wore me out and now you won't let me recuperate."

"True."

She grumbled under her breath as she rolled over back onto her stomach, hitting her pillow. She raised her head for she'd thought of something. "Do we have enough time to take a shower?"

"It's because you asked me that question two hours ago that we are now short of time, Ro."

"Typical male response - always blaming the woman," she groused. But she did sit up and drink her coffee.

Five minutes later she looked sleek and dangerous, dressed in her red cat suit. She added to it a leather belt holding several phasers, two knives, and a few compact weapons whose purpose Picard did not question. He didn't ask her about the weaponry that she had hidden about her body. Her suit may have been skin tight, but he suspected that she was an expert at secreting weapons.

"Getting ready to greet Ragner?" She nodded. "I'm going to transfer three regular photon torpedoes and a quantum torpedo to the _Starbuck._ Have you figured out how to transport off the _Galen_ and still keep the ship in cloaked proximity to the _Adama?"_

"Yes."

"Will Ragner know that I bought a ship?"

"I don't think that we should mention it until he brings the topic up. Behlk would want to keep you as a good customer, I imagine. And gossiping about your purchases might make you mad. It is possible that Ragner does not know that you have a ship, Jean-Luc."

"On the other hand, DaiMon Behlk might conclude that I won't live beyond my first meeting with Ragner and therefore would feel no need to be loyal to me."

"Do you really think that DaiMon Behlk would choose a ragtag Vorlo over a man that survived the Borg, has the Klingon High Council in his debt, and was captain to the flagship of Starfleet? You don't know the extent of your own reputation, Jean-Luc." She grinned. "Besides, DaiMon Behlk would fight to keep you healthy and in his debt, Johnny. Ragner's only worth a few hundred bars of latinum in profit every year. You have the potential to earn that Ferengi thousands upon thousands of bars. Now, where do you think a Ferengi will place his loyalties?"

Picard reached over and clipped a tiny gold disc to her Bajoran earring. "This is programmed to only respond to your voice or touch, Laren. It's an automatic transporter command to the _Galen. _You can leave the _Adama_ at any time as long as Ragner doesn't have the shields up. Just activate it. I have two. And, as a last resort, I've placed a transponder under the skin of my forearm." He showed her a slight red mark. "If I activate this and if you are near me at the time, we both will be beamed over to the _Galen."_

"What about Mela and the kids?"

"I've discs for them as well."

He went over to the comm panel and made some adjustments. "Hopefully we can be straightforward in our dealings with Ragner and that he'll accept our bribes."

"It wouldn't hurt to point out to him that by now, Starfleet has got to be missing you, Jean-Luc."

He paused from what he was doing. "What do you mean?"

"You really think that once Starfleet hears rumors that you might be involved with the Maquis that they are not going to want to investigate? It would be better for Ragner if you are not on board his ship when a Starfleet patrol vessel comes by. I don't think Ragner's ship could survive a close inspection of its contents, flight plans or crew."

"That's why you've been so complacent about my becoming a Maquis, isn't it, Ro Laren?" His anger threatened to surface, as if he blamed her for his circumstances. "If I am involved with you for a great enough period of time, I will be considered to be Maquis whether or not I actually choose to join the Maquis. Guilt by association just simply because I am entangled with known Maquis dealers."

Her color heightened. She tried to control her temper too. "Don't blame me, _Captain._ You made your choice when you chose to return to rescue Mela."

"I could not choose my reputation over the lives of three innocent people," he retorted as his temper came closer to erupting

"Precisely." She gave him an insolent grin. "So, why are you angry with me?"

"Because as valid as my explanation is for my actions, you're one of the few people who would consider my actions to be reasonable under these circumstances," he ruefully acknowledged. "_Merde._" His anger vanished. He partially smiled as he added to his cursing, _"Damn." _

"Damn right," she agreed. She checked some terminals herself. "Now, let us pray that Ragner is where he is supposed to be at the rendezvous point."

"In orbit about Abba IV. The planet has two moons, doesn't it?"

"Yes. Ragner always liked to take a stationery high orbit about the poles." She thought for a second. "You're going to put the _Galen_ down on one of the moons, aren't you?"

"If I can find a cave, I can park her uncloaked."

Ro walked over to a panel by the bridge console and studied it. Suddenly she became excited. "Thank the prophets. This really _is_ a smuggler's ship." Her smile was wicked as she pushed a button. She looked out the front view port and laughed. "Holographic camouflage. Look, Jean-Luc."

He couldn't see the nose of his ship. All he saw was stars. "Not cloaking?"

"No. If someone scans us, we'll show up on their sensors. But if they only _look_ all they'll see is whatever we want them to see. Set the _Galen _down on the dark side of a moon, and unless someone is specifically scanning for us, they won't see us. They'll just see moonscape." She turned the camouflage off. "A few Maquis ships have this feature. It's an expensive one which is why only some of the ships have it."

"I have a feeling that I know why Starfleet has yet to catch you, Ro Laren."

"Now, why would Starfleet be after me?"

"I was."

"With any good fortune, you will be chasing after me again quite soon." She double-checked her own equipment. "And if you're really lucky, Jean-Luc Picard, I may even permit you to catch me." She jerked her head in the direction of the transporter pad. "Ready to go face the devil you know, Jean-Luc?"

"Almost." He made a few adjustments about the console. Then he inserted a chip into a port on the console. He walked over to the transporter. "Now, I'm ready."

She nodded. "Energize."

It took them eight hours, flying in tandem, before they reached Abba IV. The only pirates they met were the ones on board the _Adama._ The ones who had been looking for them had been chased away by Ragner.

**=/\= =/\= =/\=**

Deanna was beginning to re-define her definition of hell. Besides being host to her mother, her hell now included being caught between Worf and Will. Ever since this business with the missing Captain Picard had started, both men were working efficiently together, the epitome of correct, professional Starfleet behavior. And both men were not speaking to Deanna Troi other when _they had absolutely no other choice_ necessary.

Deanna felt like a likely candidate for an intense immersion in primal scream therapy. She paced about the anteroom to Worf's office, waiting - waiting for something to happen other than more of her mother's machinations.

Oh, she had no proof that her mother had plotted this degrading farce. Her mother's protestations had been heart wrenchingly sincere. However, the image of Will's upraised tush waving in the breeze, as he was kneeling in front of Lwaxana's toes was a vision she was not likely to ever forget.

She wasn't about to forgive the manipulator who had arranged for such a scene to happen. There weren't enough houses in the Betazoid hierarchy for her mother to hide if Deanna ever got proof of her mother's involvement. Deanna would hunt her down.

In the meantime she had to concentrate on what might have happened to Jean-Luc Picard. She hadn't sensed anything from the captain for many months. Physically searching for the man was proving fruitless.

She did however, rejoice over the news that Commander Geordi LaForge and Dr. Leah Brahms were getting married. Soon, if Deanna was any judge of Leah Brahms' determination.

She sighed. At least someone was having good luck with their love life. She didn't even want to think about the names she could call the kind of luck she was having at the moment.

**=/\= =/\= =/\=**

Lieutenant Commander Nella Daren sat on the chair facing her new captain who was seated behind his Bajoran burled wood desk in the _Cairo's_ ready room. She was not intimidated by her new commanding officer. She had looked up everything she could find on Captain Edward Jellico. He seemed to be a reasonable man with a legendary, forthright style of command. Nella Daren could appreciate that. She watched him as he walked over to his replicator.

"Would you care for anything, Nella?"

Though surprised by his use of her first name she didn't let him know it. "Calaman sherry, please, Captain." She noted that he did not invite her to use his first name. She understood his command structure set-up now.

If he was surprised by her choice of refreshment, he did not show it as he handed her the sherry. He had ordered up a glass of milk.

"So, Nella, you once served on the _Enterprise. _I was her captain you know, for a while - long before Riker crashed her in to Veridian III." He shook his head. "How Picard could have let that man have responsibility for his ship, I do not know. You know about Commander Will Riker?"

"Only met the commander briefly, for a few times. We did not see eye-to-eye when it came to stellar cartography."

By her very attitude, Jellico now believed that Nella was not fond of Will Riker either.

"Tell me about Jean-Luc Picard. What was he like?"

Now, Nella was surprised by his question. Though she had not kept her relationship with Jean-Luc a secret, they had been discreet and mention of their relationship had never been found in any official Starfleet record. Besides, personal life had always been considered private and off-limits by Starfleet. For a commanding officer to make what sounded to her like a formal inquiry without sufficient reason, was a major breach of conduct. She hadn't thought that the status of Jean-Luc Picard had reached that level of urgency. She carefully chose her words.

"What did you wish to know, Captain?"

"After working under Captain Picard, do you think that he has gone over to the Maquis?"

She considered his words. "I only discussed stellar cartography and music with Captain Picard, during the short time that I was on board the _Enterprise._ Besides, when I was on board her, the Maquis was not yet perceived to be a threat."

"How well did you know the man?"

"We were friends."

"Do you think that he could have left Starfleet for the Maquis?"

"I'm sure that Captain Picard would leave Starfleet if he so wished it. But I don't think that the Maquis would tempt him. He seemed too dedicated to his duty to Starfleet to have his core beliefs questioned."

"My assessment of the man exactly. I'm proceeding with this investigation under the assumption that whatever his involvement is with the problems of this sector, it is by involuntary participation."

Her eyes widened as she realized the import of what Jellico was saying. Apparently there were other Starfleet officers who were assuming that Jean-Luc Picard had willingly disappeared.

"Anything that you can tell me might help."

"Captain, there was one thing that I noticed when I was reading the reports of what happened to the _Unk._" She looked at him expectantly as she sipped her sherry.

"Continue."

"Besides a _J. Picard_ being on the passenger list, there was also a mention of a mother and her two children."

"And Jean-Luc Picard would not abandon a mother and her family. If they were able to get off the ship alive…"

"They'd be together. He'd be trying to get them to wherever it was that they would be safe. According to what Mr. Data has uncovered, the woman - a Mela Torrez - was on her way to join her husband at Tohvun."

Jellico nodded in agreement. "And that's where I am going to focus our search - using Tohvun as the center of an ever-expanding pattern of search." He stood thinking for a moment. "I'd give anything to get Mr. Data as one of my officers. I liked having him as my First Officer when I was on board the _Enterprise._ I asked him to come to the _Cairo._ He refused."

"Data is a close friend of mine. We share similar musical interests. He's quite an _artiste_ himself. I'll contact him to see if he'd reconsider coming to the _Cairo._" She smiled thinking about her absent friend. "If there is anyone who can write their own ticket at Starfleet Command, it is Mr. Data. Only thing you have to do, Captain, is convince Data of the disadvantages of being Earth's only unemployed android composer."

Nella finished off her sherry, and then more closely observed the walls behind Jellico's desk. "Now, Captain, care to tell me who did these nice drawings of horses?"

"Actually, I think they're Vulcan elands." He pulled down one of the drawings, touching it with fondness. "I am looking forward to one day receiving command of a Galaxy class starship. Ever since my wife died, I've felt the desire to have my son with me. Unlike other Nebula class ships, the _Cairo_ was too old to be outfitted for families." He stepped around his desk toward the door to the bridge. "Once I get command of the _Enterprise E_, I can arrange for my son to finally join me. Their mother, Lord rest her soul, would never consider living on board a star ship. She hated space travel. I never did understand why she chose to marry a Starfleet officer." He abruptly stopped speaking, surprised by his own willingness to tell such personal information to one of his own officers. And a new one to boot.

Nella filed away the mention of his family for future reference. Instead, she paid attention to what he said about his future plans. "You're going to be the next captain of the _Enterprise?"_

"I'm at the top of the list. I should get my choice of commands when the new Galaxy class ships are ready."

Nella didn't think it prudent to mention anything about counting one's chickens. She couldn't help but contrast this man with other captains that she had known.

She stood, then brightly asked, "Now, let me tell you about the changes I've ordered in stellar cartography. I'm sure you'll agree. Captain Picard did…"

"I'll look over your plans." He motioned for her to sit again. "You were mentioning that you're a musician. I consider myself to be an amateur musician as well. I'm a baritone. And a collector of rare recordings. Especially musicals and film scores of the 20th and 21st centuries…"

**=/\= =/\= =/\=**

"Captain Ragner, I come bearing a peace offering. A _thank you gift_ as it were, for saving my life. And the life of my friends."

The disruptors pointed at Jean-Luc Picard and Ro Laren did not waver an iota.

Jean-Luc Picard looked about the bridge of the _Adama_, displaying a confidence that Ragner grudgingly admitted to himself, did impress him. This man had _guramba._

"I can still kill you _Johnny_, and get my _gifts,"_ Ragner practically stated, barely suppressing his anger at being fooled by these two vermin.

"Not without gaining my access codes," Picard politely replied. "You cannot use either the photon torpedoes or the _quantum_ torpedo on board the _Starbuck_ without my releasing control over to you. Otherwise, they will back fire a second after you launch them."

Ragner laughed broadly. Picard did not sense any good will behind the sound.

"I should have known that the _great Captain Picard_ would not be a fool." He laughed again. Ragner placed his large hands around Ro's neck. If he squeezed, she would be dead.

Picard didn't flinch.

"_Him_, I can forgive, Laren. By the Volorian gods, I'd have been disappointed if he hadn't displayed some signs of his legendary cunning. But _you_, Ro Laren…"

She knew that if Jean-Luc hadn't been there, she'd be on her way to a very slow, painful torturous death. She'd crossed the line when she'd lied to Ragner. Ragner would never forgive her. She knew that he would exact his revenge against her - Maquis be damned.

"Ragner." Picard interrupted Ragner's imaginings. "Ro Laren is _my_ officer. She comes with Mela, the children and me."

"No."

Picard continued speaking as if Ragner hadn't said anything. He looked at the men standing about the bridge, then over and Mela and her children. Ragner had ordered them dragged up to the bridge the moment Picard had beamed onto the bridge of the _Adama._

Picard addressed the crew as well as Ragner. "Starfleet wants me. You all know that. When we are all off of this ship, you will be safe. Otherwise you will all become the subject of Starfleet's undivided attention. Give us the _Starbuck_ and we will leave. I'll take it back to Thelka and leave it there. The next time you go there for supplies, you can pick it up."

"You can have the _Starbuck_," Ragner graciously conceded. "But you can't take Ro Laren. She is mine." Ragner released the Bajoran then pointed his disruptor at her. "I will kill her now. Solves the problem."

Mela stepped defiantly in front of Ro. "No."

Mela barely knew Ro Laren. But she knew that this woman was her savior's friend. After this man had come back for her and her children, she could do nothing else but try to protect John Luke's lady.

Picard's estimation of Mela rose greatly. Even Ragner was impressed by her bravery, though he did nothing to show it.

But before the captains could continue their showdown, one of the crew started cursing. Proximity alarms started screeching. And then Ragner started filling the air with his curses too.

"Federation starship!" Ragner swore.

Picard walked to a comm panel and brought up a screen with the ship on it. No one stopped him. "_The Cairo,_" he announced. He turned to look at Ragner. "Our negotiations are finished, Ragner. You have a choice to make. Let us transport over to the _Cairo_ - or live the rest of your life in a Federation prison."

"I could disintegrate all of you."

"Then you'd still be a guest of the Federation. You possess a quantum torpedo which is a serious offense. You will become a prisoner of the very people who might be inclined to turn you over to local jurisdiction." He redirected his words toward Ro. "I wonder who has control of Abba IV?"

"It is in Klingon space." She smiled at Ragner. It wasn't a nice smile. "You still great friends with the Klingons, Ragner?"

Before Ragner could form an appropriate response, the _Adama _was hailed by the _Cairo._

Two minutes later Picard picked up Jory and Harla, and then walked over to Mela. They were ready to be beamed over to the _Cairo._

"Ro comes with me," he warned, when the men surrounding Ro did not move.

"No. Be grateful that I am letting the four of you go - alive." He grumbled, "I hate losing another cook - especially a good one."

"Captain Ragner, Ro Laren _must_ come with us. You have no choice."

"I have many choices, Picard. Blasting you as you beam over is one of them."

"Lieutenant Ro Laren is wanted by the Federation. If you harbor her, you will be aiding a criminal. You'll know no peace."

Ro blinked in surprise as Picard's words, but smiled to herself understanding what he was doing. Or so she thought…

Ragner hesitated. But he saw something in Picard's stare. "As I live and breathe, I think that you are telling me the truth this time, Johnny Picard." He glanced over at Ro. "I almost pity you, Bajoran. Your lover is ruthless." He nodded at his men. "Let them all go. As a good citizen of the Federation, Captain Jean-Luc Picard, I am no block to Starfleet justice."

Moments later, Ro, Mela and the twins, and Picard stepped off the platform on board the _Cairo._ There was nothing different about this ship's transporter room other than the fact that they were greeted by Captain Jellico, Nella Daren and three security officers.

"Good to see you again, Captain Picard." Jellico formally greeted him. He started to extend his hand, then realized what precious cargo Picard was carrying.

"Good to be on board your ship, Captain Jellico," Picard politely replied. He acted as if he were distracted. As if being rescued were an every day occurrence of little note. He handed Harla to a nearby security guard and then came over to Nella and silently handed her Jory. He could afford no feelings about suddenly being reunited with Nella at this juncture. His thoughts were focused elsewhere.

"This is Jory and Harla Torez. And their mother, Mela Torez. Please take them to sickbay for a physical. They have had a rather trying time of it over the past few weeks."

"You get checked over too, Jean-Luc," Jellico ordered.

"Later." He turned to another security office and handed the Pentarian security guard the two phasers he'd been carrying. He then jerked his head in Ro's direction. The third guard took Ro's weapons. She willingly complied with Jean-Luc's unspoken request. Being heavily armed was not the best way for Ro Laren to start her re-integration into Federation space.

"Now, Jean-Luc," Captain Jellico sternly remarked, "I know how much you dislike visits to Sickbay. I saw the way you treated Dr. Crusher. But before I call the Admiralty, I want a full report on all that has happened to you. And your condition." He walked over to Ro Laren and extended his hand. "Young lady, I am Captain Edward Jellico. And you are?"

Picard spoke before Ro could answer. His stentorian voice filled the room.

"Captain Edward Jellico, this is former Starfleet Lieutenant Ro Laren. There are warrants for her arrest on charges of treason and desertion from Starfleet. There will be other charges pending as well since she is now Maquis. Place her under arrest and throw her in the brig." Picard's voice was cold, bereft of emotion. He did not look at her as he spoke.

"Wh….what?" she gasped. _She must have misunderstood him. He must be playacting…_

Picard stepped in front of her and stared at her. For a brief moment - an eternity - their eyes locked. Ro Laren saw something there that panicked her more than all the renegade Cardassians in the Zone. His icy glare slashed through her very heart.

He turned at looked at Jellico. "Ro was under _my_ command on board the _Enterprise D_ when she betrayed Starfleet. Arrest her."

"_But… you said… you told me that there were no charges…"_

He refused to look at her.

Ro Laren's universe was crumbling again. She began to comprehend what Jean-Luc Picard was doing to her. Her heart filled with rage even as her soul clung to a dwindling hope.

"_**YOU LIED TO ME!"**_

_She had been betrayed. _She flew at him, all-consuming Bajoran fury lending strength to her actions. Her hands curled into dangerous claws as she went for his face.

A phaser blast stopped her attack before she reached Picard. Jellico's security guards were well-trained.

Picard didn't move, letting her unconscious body fall to the deck. She crumpled like a broken doll. _Which she now was…_

Picard stepped over her, looking down at Ro with passionless eyes. "Take her to the brig. If she needs medical attention, have it done there. She's too clever, Captain. Have a care."

A somewhat stunned Captain Jellico nodded toward his guards to comply. He didn't protest that a man who technically was not a Starfleet captain had no right to give orders on board the _Cairo_. He suspected that Jean-Luc would be returning to Starfleet the moment an Admiral could be reached.

Jellico did not quite believe what had just happened. He had formed an opinion about Picard's character a long time ago. And that opinion had not included this kind of behavior.

Mela stepped over to Jean-Luc, looking down at Ro Laren. Her confusion was mirrored in her eyes. "I do not understand. I thought that you liked her - that you were lovers."

Jellico reacted to this bit of information.

"Mela, you don't understand what is going on here. I will explain it all to you later." With that, he dismissed Ro Laren and Mela, and turned, walking out of the door, unwilling to say or do anything more.

Mela tried to reconcile the laughing man that had once shared her vegetable stew, who had risked his life time and again to save her children, with the grim, soulless man who had just so heartlessly betrayed his lover.

Captain Jellico strode toward the door, extending his arm to Mela. He needed to hear more about what had happened between Picard and the Bajoran. "Ma'am. Shall I escort you to Sickbay?" He was mindful of her delicate condition.

Mela nodded, needing the support of Jellico's arm. She was feeling rather nauseous.

Watching additional security come into the transporter room to pick up the unfortunate Bajoran, Nella Daren archly commented, "Welcome to the _Cairo_, Jean-Luc Picard. You do know how to make a memorable entrance."

With that, she went to Sickbay too, carrying Jory. The now wide-eyed young man was impressed and more interested in discovering what was going on about him on board a real genuine Federation starship than with the melodrama that had just occurred.

**=/\= =/\= =/\=**

In the brig, something hissed behind Ro's ear. She groggily opened her eyes as the stimulant flooded through her, knowing that somehow, facing consciousness was the last thing she really wanted to do. She finally focused on the face hovering over her. It was an impassive Vulcan face.

"Selar, isn't it?"

"Yes, Lieutenant Ro. It is good to see you again. I am sorry about the circumstances. I am the CMO on board the _Cairo._ Captain Jellico wants to see you in about an hour. I will return when it is time for you to go."

When Dr. Selar left, Ro gritted her teeth. Slowly she moved into an upright position, weakly resting her head on the metal bulkhead.

_All alone, in trouble and in the brig… My life, all right…_

She concentrated on the immediate, the physical at first. A phaser stun, even at the weakest setting, was still not a pleasant event. Just forcing her muscles to move in any semblance of order took great effort. After a few moments of testing her muscles, she gave in to the weariness controlling her body, deciding to wait a little while longer before she tried to stand. After all, it wasn't as if she had any where important to go…

Then the shuddering started. In her stomach at first, then wave after wave working its way outwards until the tremors reached her toes. She couldn't stop it, couldn't control it. And she didn't want to. The pain helped her to focus.

After a few minutes, she was so weak, she could barely breathe. A heavy weight pressed against her heart. She could focus on nothing but her own pain - and its source - Jean -Luc Picard. She'd been a fool to trust him.

She couldn't actually blame him for everything - only for part of it. He had warned her. He had been true to his duty, his nature. She was the blind one, who had foolishly followed what her heart wanted to believe and not the reality of the man she had known. Now, she was going to pay for all of her sins, many times over.

An hour later, clean, and wearing a tan shantung silk shirt and matching rough woven slacks, Jean-Luc Picard sipped a cup of hot Earl Grey tea that actually tasted like it was supposed to taste. He was sitting in Jellico's ready room. He was comfortable in these surroundings, somewhat surprised that he felt no desire to be sitting behind the other side of the desk.

"That's quite a tale, Jean-Luc," Jellico commented as he turned off his view screen. "I can hardly wait to hear from Admiral Nechayev when she reads your report." He paused for a moment, making a notation on his padd. "I'm going to recommend a warrant be made for Captain Ragner and his crew. You should have told me about them sooner, Jean-Luc. Right now, they are probably light years away."

"They are only a small part of the Maquis pipeline. With what I uncovered on board the _Adama_ as well as learned on Thelka II, the Federation can go after them at any time when they are in Federation space. For now, I think it would be wise if we just wait and let Captain Ragner reveal by his actions, who his contacts are in the Federation. Someone is supplying them with quantum torpedoes."

"You just told me that Ragner has one on board his ship. That alone is reason to stop him."

"I disabled that torpedo before I gave it to him. Even if Ragner can get inside of the casing without setting off the auto-destruct programming, I still had the command codes in my pocket when I left the _Adama_. Not even the maker of the torpedo could get it operating again. And Ragner doesn't have the kind of engineering intelligence among his crew that would be necessary to get even that far. Ro Laren was the only one of his crew with any real intellect."

Jellico put down his glass of milk, glancing about the off-white and grey walls of his ready room. He mentally compared this room to the one that had once existed on board the _Enterprise._ He had not cared for Picard's choice of décor.

"I don't understand, Jean-Luc. I took Mela Torez's statements myself. According to her, you and Lieutenant Ro were lovers within hours of your capture. She saved your life. Yet, you brought her back to the Federation to stand trial."

"Lieutenant Ro was willing to be my lover in order to convince Ragner that I could not be _the_ Captain Picard. Ragner knew enough about my reputation to know that I would never consort with someone such as Ro Laren. The fact that she greeted me as a lover, and created the illusion that we have been lovers before, saved my life." Picard put down his mug and walked over to the star portal, looking at the stars for a while. "I will help her, if I can, at her trial. But that will be the extent of the fulfilling of my obligation to the woman."

"Why didn't you leave her on board the _Adama?_ That's where you found her in the first place. She didn't ask you to bring her on board the _Cairo_, did she? I don't understand."

"Aside from what she owed me when she deserted the _Enterprise_, Ro Laren is a wanted criminal, Captain Jellico. I could not leave her behind and let her escape. That would have made me derelict in my duty."

Jellico said nothing, pondering the man across from him. He did not recognize this Captain Picard. "So you tricked Ro Laren into coming on board a Federation starship?"

"Yes. I told her that Will Riker had not put everything in his reports about her actions concerning the Maquis."

"You lied?" He was amazed that he even had to ask Jean-Luc Picard this question.

"I did my duty, Captain Jellico." Captain Picard's demeanor became even more icy.

Jellico nodded, accepting the words. He reached over and touched his terminal. "Lieutenant Lemus, if the prisoner is capable of moving, bring Ro Laren to my ready room."

Jean-Luc returned to his chair and sipped more tea, just watching Jellico. "Is that necessary?"

"I need her statement, Jean-Luc. I find that taking one in the brig is not conducive to openness."

Picard stood, placing his mug on Jellico's desk. "I will leave you alone."

Jellico chose not to make this easy for Picard. "Please stay, Captain Picard. I'll need your assistance to determine how much of what she tells me is really the truth. I've just read the lieutenant's Starfleet record. She was quite a hard case even before she joined the Maquis."

"Yes, she was that, Captain Jellico." Picard went to the replicator and ordered up a double strong, double sweet coffee as well as more tea for himself. Then he returned to his chair to wait for Ro's arrival.

**=/\= =/\= =/\=**

"I don't want to see him."

"You don't have a choice, Lieutenant."

"I'd really rather not," Ro whispered as her memories churned in her head. "Besides, I was just starting to fall asleep." She just wanted to curl up into a tight little ball and ignore the world forever.

Selar offered Ro her hand.

She sat up, suddenly feeling ill, dizzy. Another hypo spray shot was administered. Now she felt only ill - no dizziness. Numbness penetrated her thoughts. Slowly she stood, hoping that she could keep the numbness. For once she started to feel again, she didn't think that she would be able to face the truth.

_Jean-Luc Picard had betrayed her. Her lover. Her friend. The man she had adored…_

She'd been beaten down, devastated for the last time. All that was left for her was a bleak existence with no color or warmth at all in it. She didn't have the strength to go on. _She was ravaged, stripped, destroyed…_

"The captain is waiting," Selar reminded her.

"Like I should care? What's he going to do to me if I'm late? Throw me in the brig?"

Ro tentatively stepped over to the cell's sink and splashed cold water on her face. This didn't revive her enough. She looked bleary in the mirror. And came to the conclusion that no one was likely to call her a raving beauty at the moment. She finally noticed that someone had changed her clothing. She was now wearing a dull grey standard issue jumpsuit which was a far cry from the vibrant red outfit that she'd worn on Thelka II.

Deciding that she could no longer delay the inevitable, she walked over to the force field, waiting for the guard to drop it. She also wondered what Jean-Luc had told them about her, for apparently her escort to the captain's ready room consisted of four security guards.

Her head pounded with the sudden agonizing thought of Jean-Luc Picard. And with it returned a sense of purpose to her life. If it was the last thing she ever did, she was gong to make him pay. She was going to show him how true Bajorans exacted revenge. She would list all of his crimes against her and proclaim his evil deeds to the prophets. They would cry out for justice for her. Right now, the only thing that gave her strength was her anger. It was enough - she hoped.

She found with every step that she took toward the ready room, that her energy was returning. When the turbo lift opened up onto the bridge, she walked forward with almost all of her insubordinate attitude that was her trademark, intact.

Ro glanced toward the main view screen. Startled, she saw that the grey to orange planet in the view screen, was Abba IV. They were still in orbit. As was her habit when she was nervous, her hand went to play with her Bajoran earring. She stumbled, doing her best to hide her shock at feeling the earring. _She still had her earring. It hadn't been taken away from her._

Moving slowly, jerkily, as if she were still suffering from the aftereffects of the phaser stun, she stepped closer to the command chair, and just innocently looked about.

"Far cry from the _Enterprise_," she arrogantly announced to the bridge crew. "None of you would have made it there. I heard that your captain didn't."

Before they could react to her rude words, she had seen what she needed to know. The shields were down.

Listlessly moving so that she surprised her guards, she pressed her earring and prayed. The woozy disorienting feeling of transportation filled her body. The last thing she saw were guards starting to raise their weapons in her direction. But it was too late. She was gone.

The bridge crew's cries were heard in the ready room. The captains emerged and learned of Ro's escape.

"_Merde_! There may be vessels in the area. Check the polar orbits. That's a Maquis trick to hide their ships' signature."

Jellico barked orders as he crew began searching for the ship or ships that had rescued Ro Laren.

Twenty minutes later, when no trace of her had been found, Picard asked the officer who had apparently been in charge of the Bajoran, "Didn't you scan Ro?"

"No. We searched her," Jellico's second officer, a Lt. Mordock deferentially answered.

"We took all of her clothing and weaponry."

"And her earring?" Picard testily asked, acting like the captain he had been born to be. "Did you remove it?"

"Of course not," the Benzite replied, still almost in awe of this man. His only personal contact with Captain Picard had been through Wesley Crusher. Wesley's stories about the man had impressed him. Then he remembered that he actually was supposed to be answering this captain's questions. "I could nor remove her earring. It is part of the Bajoran worship ritual. I would not dream of interfering with another race's sacred customs."

"Of course not." Picard looked at Jellico. All of his accusations about the competence of this crew went unspoken. But Jellico knew them. Picard pivoted, walking away from the bridge to the turbo lift door. "I'll be in my quarters if you have a need of me, Captain Jellico."

He didn't need to say anything more. Jellico knew that Picard didn't think that his crew would be able to catch up with Ro Laren.

One more time, Jellico resented Picard's arrogance. He still did not understand this man. All he knew was that now, Starfleet was going to blame him for Ro Laren's escape. And they would be right. He turned and stared at his Benzite officer, then sighed. This officer had done nothing wrong or against regulations. The only problem was the Benzite just did not think like a renegade warrior. And how do you discipline against that?

An hour later, Ro Laren decided that her breath could finally return back to normal. Her first instinctive action when she'd arrived on board the _Galen_, had been to blast off of the second moon of Abba IV and take her chances. Then she saw the rumpled sheets of a bed that they both had not bothered to make, only hours earlier. And she started to think - to really try to understand all that had just happened. Waiting seemed to be the wisest move.

Jean-Luc Picard knew where she was. Now, all she had to do was wait and see if he was going to do anything about it. If she didn't take off from the moon, she stood a better chance to avoid detection, provided Picard did not reveal her position. _And so far, he had not._

She didn't know what to think about all that had happened. If she ended up back in Jellico's custody, she'd finally know the truth about the kind of man that Jean-Luc Picard was. And what she had meant to him. That is, if she'd meant anything at all to him.

Eight hours later, she decided that she could risk turning on her scanners to check the area. If Federation vessels had not recently acquired their own cloaking devices, then there was no one in orbit about Abba IV. She was safe.

Deciding to stay where she was for the moment, she collapsed onto the bed, desperately needing some sleep. Her last thoughts before she journeyed with Morpheus was that the pillows still carried his scent…

**=/\= =/\= =/\=**

Jean-Luc Picard leaned over the crib in the _Cairo's_ sickbay, and smiled down at his new godson, John Luke Torez. He'd spent the last two hours with Mela, holding her hand during her labor as she gave birth to her newest son.

The baby boy was beautiful, with ten perfect little fingers and ten perfect little toes. Jean-Luc had counted them. And then Jean-Luc carefully picked up the boy and held him, holding the infant's head correctly, rocking the boy slightly.

Dr. Selar was impressed that this man knew the proper way to hold a new-born infant. She didn't notice the sad expression on Jean-Luc's face as he remembered another time, another son… Still holding the baby, Jean-Luc crossed over to where Mela was, smiling happily down at the lady.

"He's beautiful, Mela. Perfect. Your husband will be so proud when he sees him:" He reached down and gently placed the babe in his mother's arms. "You know, you don't have to burden the boy with my name. I'll understand if your husband has another preference."

"Johnny, don't be an idiot," Mela chided.

It had been a long time since anyone had ever called him an idiot to his face. Picard smiled at the thought. But then, a look crossed over Mela's face, and Picard guessed at what was troubling her. He leaned over and whispered into her ear, "Captain Jellico has already started searching for information about your husband, Mela. We will find him. I promise."

"And Ro Laren?"

He winced at the thought of her. "I'll discuss the lady with you at another time."

She grabbed his arm as he started to move away from the bedside. "I heard the nurses talking. Ro Laren escaped."

"Yes. Ro outsmarted all of us," Jean-Luc admitted.

"I don't think that she did - not all of you." Her soft voice revealed her exhaustion. "Knew you weren't a bad man, Johnny…" Mela fell asleep.

Jean-Luc gingerly removed the baby from Mela's arms, pleased that the boy was not crying yet. He returned the baby to his crib, then stood there, watching as the infant fell asleep.

Dr. Seal came over to them, having been observing her former captain from a distance.

"I do not understand." Her voice was soft as she did not wish to disturb the baby.

"What, Dr. Selar?"

"It was always something that was understood on board the _Enterprise_ that you were not accustomed to children, that you did not like children, and that you did not wish to be bothered by children."

"And?"

"I have seen evidence that proves otherwise, Captain Picard."

'I'm this child's godfather," Picard argued.

Selar bestowed on Picard a knowing smile. "I remember the times you used to come to the maternity ward, and greeted every new arrival. Most definitely the logical actions of a man who did not like children."

"Dr. Selar."

"Yes, Captain?"

"I think I underestimated just how much of a saint Beverly Crusher was for having put up with you all of those years."

"Captain, I have always said that Dr. Crusher was the saint for tolerating you."

Picard blinked, speechless in the presence of a Vulcan with a sense of witty repartee. He suddenly regretted not having gotten to know the Vulcaness better when she'd been one of his officers.

**=/\= =/\= =/\=**

Wearily, Ro Laren picked up the almost empty tea mug that had been sitting by the comm panel. She was surprised that Jean-Luc had actually been drinking a beverage near one of his precious comm panels. She had always thought that his number one unwritten law on board the _Enterprise _had been _no liquids near the comm board._ Something about an early encounter with hot chocolate had been the catalyst for that rule.

However, it was nice to know that Jean-Luc was not too perfect. He occasionally showed a more human side. She sighed, remembering just how human the man could be. Those remembrances were going to haunt her for a very long time.

Looking about the bridge of the _Galen_, she sighed again. She wasn't sure where she should go in this galaxy. Her schedule of meetings with the Maquis contacts had been thrown off by the mess with Ragner. They were not expecting her at the rendezvous point for several days. She knew that they'd welcome her and most especially this ship. But there was a portion of her conscience that wasn't so sure that it was right for the Maquis to have this ship.

Touching the comm, she started to compose a coded signal to the closest Maquis listening outpost. Suddenly something beeped. Startled, she looked about, trying to locate the source of the beeping. There was a communications chip on the board that shouldn't be there. Ro Laren played it.

Somehow, she wasn't that surprised when the image of Jean-Luc filled a view screen.

It began:

_Ro Laren. If you are seeing this message then I am not on board the Galen with you. Hopefully, this means that I am just elsewhere, preferably on board a Federation ship. And not that I am dead._

_Until we meet again, and I do have this feeling that we will meet again, take care of the Galen for me._

_I put the remainder of the credits that we won on Thelka II in a special account for you with DaiMon Behlk. Use it to keep this ship operating the way she should be kept. And use any of the excess money to buy food and medical supplies as you see fit. I will trust in your conscience not to buy weapons to be used against Starfleet, Ro Laren._

_So, take care of your self, ma belle. I hope that the next time we meet, we meet in peace as friends. You still owe me some truths including what really happened on Garon II. Goodbye, Laren. I will miss you. Jean-Luc Picard out._

The message ended. Jean-Luc Picard must have made the recording when she'd been sleeping. For a long time, Ro just sat there, tears streaming down her face. She hadn't cried when she'd been court-martialed. She hadn't cried when Admiral Kennelly had almost trapped her in his stupid plotting when he'd been duped by the Cardassians. She hadn't cried when a transporter accident had turned her into a child and she had finally admitted to herself how much she'd missed her mother. She hadn't cried when her father had died, when the Cardassians had raped and then tortured her. She hadn't cried on Garon II. Or afterwards.

She hadn't cried at any of those times - _so why was she crying now?_

Powering up the engines, she headed away from Abba IV, hoping to find some answers to her life written somewhere in the stars.

**=/\= =/\= =/\=**

Riker decided to pour himself another cup of coffee. He had to admit that Mr. Homm did have his uses. The man certainly could brew a good cup of coffee.

He was amazed that after all that had happened during the past few days, only fifty hours of real time had passed. He had not even had a chance to round up his cadets to go search for Captain Picard. Aside from his relief that Jean-Luc was okay, he was disappointed that he had not had the chance to test his cadets in a real-life situation. Not that he was in much accord with Worf at the moment, but he suspected that even Worf was disgruntled over the fact that the Klingon hadn't been able to call out the marines.

Riker went back to his seat at the breakfast table in a charming nook that overlooked two different gardens. Both were quite beautiful, peaceful, and relaxing. He felt like that at the moment. As long as Worf or Deanna didn't come into the room, he would stay that way too.

He'd been surprised when Lwaxana had invited him to stay here. She'd used Captain Picard's disappearance as the reason for the invitation.

On top of everything else, to further complicate relationships, Worf's parent were due back today too. He wondered how Worf was going to handle their finding out about the events of a certain red-letter evening.

Riker stretched back against his chair, propping his feet up against a rock flower pot ledge by one of the many bay windows in the room. Once he'd been assured that Jean-Luc was all right, Riker had found the time to unwind and think about his situation with Deanna. Some of her accusations, both verbal and silent, had been dead-on correct. It had been his own ego, his own needs, that had been driving him to interfere with Worf and Deanna's relationship. He really hadn't been ready to give Deanna up. And now, thanks to his insensitive behavior, plus some meddling on the part of a woman who remained officially unidentified, both Worf as well as himself might be forever estranged from Deanna.

Will Riker didn't like himself much at the moment. He wondered what he could do to make amends to both Worf and Deanna.

There was an absence of sound from behind his back. He didn't need to turn and look. He recognized in a second that it was Worf who had entered the breakfast room.

"Coffee's quite strong," Will announced into the air in general. "There's prune juice, too."

"Lwaxana Troi cannot bribe me with prune juice," Worf commented. He then picked up a Betazoid version of a pear and bit it in half. He then put it down on a buffet plate, poured himself some of the prune juice, and sat down on the other side of the glazed yellow Jalaran bamboo table. He sat opposite of Riker.

"There is no meat," he remarked.

"I'm sure that Mr. Homm will bring some shortly." Riker did have to comment upon Worf's legendary appetite. Anyone who lived around the Klingon for more than a day would have noticed Worf's very conspicuous consumption of thousands of calories.

A moment later Mr. Homm came in with a tea cart holding many covered entrée dishes. He placed the larger of the old Earth style silver dishes in front of Mr. Worf. After Mr. Homm left, Worf opened up the telescoping cover and sniffed. "Rokeg blood pie." He stuck a spoon inside of the dish and pulled out a morsel. He ate it. For the first time he directly looked at Will Riker. "Lwaxana Troi _is_ trying to bribe me."

"I know you can't be bought, Worf. So go ahead, and enjoy your spoils." Riker opened up the dish that had been placed in front of him. "I've got oatmeal. Deanna must have told Mr. Homm how much I loathe oatmeal."

"I did," Worf honestly admitted.

Riker acknowledged Mr. Worf's confession with a slight nod. Then he tried a tablespoon full of the oatmeal. It was worse than he remembered. He drank more coffee and waited. There had to be a reason why Worf was sitting here, joining him for breakfast.

"What's on your mind, Worf?" Will casually asked. He didn't mind being the first one to bend. He owed Worf and Deanna that much.

Worf looked at him, then returned to eating his breakfast. When he finished all of the pie, he put down his silver spoon. Now, he was ready to speak.

"I do not blame you for what happened the other night."

"Magnanimous of you, Mr. Worf."

"There is a problem."

"True, Worf. All too true."

"Deanna still desires you."

"No, Worf. What happened the other night has little to do with her real desires."

"No." He smashed his fist down onto the table. Plates rattled, coffee sloshed over onto the tablecloth. "I will not let you avoid facing this, Captain!"

"I think under the circumstances, you'd better get used to calling me _Will._"

"_**WILL!**_ You are avoiding the issue again." This time he glared at Riker with contempt. "I had not thought you a coward."

Only Worf could have gotten away with saying that to Riker.

"How so?" Will asked; his voice was mild, controlled.

"Deanna is your Imzadi, Will."

"I know that, Worf."

"She will be my wife."

"Congratulations, Worf."

"I have yet to inform Deanna of my decision."

Riker drained his coffee then went to get another cup. He mentally debated whether or not he wanted to be around when Worf discussed this matter with Deanna. On one hand, it was their business. But, on the other hand, it would be one hell of an entertaining scene, and considering recent events, a scene to which he was more than entitled to see.

"Worf," he cautioned.

"I have investigated Betazed law," Worf announced.

"And?" Riker wasn't sure where this conversation with Worf was going.

"Deanna may have _two_ husbands. Betazed females need strong men when they enter _the Phase."_

"So you finally learned about _the Phase, _eh, Worf?"

Worf permitted himself a slight smile. "I am surprised that there are not more Klingon-Betazed matings. They are a worthy race for a Klingon warrior."

Riker could not think of an appropriate comment for this statement, so he drank some more coffee. Then he reached for some toast and started spreading some black uttaberry jam on it. Waving his knife about, he casually asked, "So you would be husband _Number One?"_

"I would enjoy calling you _Husband Number Two_," Worf stated, relishing the sound of it.

Will wasn't sure if he should be insulted or not. "Why wouldn't I be _Husband Number One?"_

"Because you would not be around that often. I intend to live with Deanna."

"And so, I'm just supposed to come visit now and then?"

"Yes." Worf tackled the second entrée dish that Mr. Homm had placed before him. It was a bitter fruit comfit that only a Klingon would like.

Will watched Worf eat for a while before he got up enough curiosity to ask, "And Deanna's agreed to this?"

"She will."

Will privately wondered about Worf's naïve opinion of Deanna's tractability. He contemplated Deanna's possible reactions.

"What if I do not want to stay married to Deanna? If you're going to live with her, what do I do when I am _not _around the lady?"

"What you already do when you _are_ around the lady, Will Riker."

"Are you saying that because of my lack of commitment toward Deanna, you expect me to have other women besides Deanna?"

Worf just looked at him, not wanting to give voice to all of the things that were most likely with Captain Riker.

"All right, Worf. I'll concede that you will be a more loyal husband that I ever could be. But I've always been true to Deanna in my fashion."

"It is because of your devotion to your Imzadi that I am even considering this solution, Will."

Riker couldn't dispute Worf's point. Other than Deanna and Soren, Will's love life had always been held on a most superficial level.

Riker started to consider other possible problems. "What about children?"

"I would assume responsibility for any of Deanna's children." He stared at Will Riker before adding, 'You will do the same. They will become _our_ children."

"Including Alexander?"

Worf nodded in agreement.

Riker couldn't argue with this. "You would _share_ Deanna with me?"

Worf grimaced. _"Never at the same time again, Will Riker."_

Will could only agree with this. He never wanted to experience another night like the last one he'd shared with Worf and Deanna.

Worf explained, "Deanna could not survive the competition between two warriors."

Will blinked at this bit of news. "What?"

"Two lovers at the same time - it would become a rivalry between us - to see who could pleasure Deanna the most. She would not survive."

"So out of concern for Deanna's life you are suggesting one bed at a time?"

"Yes."

Will Riker was momentarily speechless as the imagery of Worf's suggestions was crossing through his thoughts.

"Klingons may have more than one mate," Worf mentioned, explaining his decision from another angle on the subject.

"Really?"

"Usually it is the male who has two wives," Worf grunted. "But, there is no law against the reverse."

"Open marriages are not that uncommon in the Federation, either," Riker mused, as he began to realize that Worf was completely serious about they both becoming Deanna's husbands. _There would be problems, but it was a feasible solution…_

"We can work things out," Worf announced, feeling more confidant about matters than Will Riker. But then, he'd had more time to consider all of the ramifications of such a step.

"How will we…" Riker paused for a moment, searching for the right words. "er, Deanna will decide which bed she will share when both of us are, er, available."

Worf put down his spoon and stared at Will.

"No." He resumed eating.

For a moment, Riker was speechless. "I want to be around when you tell Deanna that, Worf." He grinned. His sense of humor was finally asserting itself again. "When she is finished with you, I promise to honor your passing with the Klingon Death Yell."

Worf sent him a disgusted look. "This is a serious matter, Will Riker."

'I know that, Worf." Will tried another tack. "So, why don't you want Deanna to choose which bed in which she'll lie?"

"Because of you. Because we are friends."

Will was confused. "Come again, Mister?"

"If we are both available and if she keeps picking one of us over the other, we both will lose…" Worf searched for the correct word, "…_harmony. _There will be dissension between us over her choice. _And we must not ever fight over Deanna…"_

"On that point, I do agree, Worf."

Worf reached for the next entrée dish and started eating grilled aftafa melons.

Will waited, grabbing another cup of coffee. When Worf tackled the second melon, he curtly asked, "So what will we do to decide who gets the lady?"

"Poker."

Will dropped his cup, splashing coffee over the front of his uniform.

"Come again?" he choked.

"Chance. Fate will decide."

"I _really_ have to be there when you tell Deanna all of this." His grin was silly at the thought of it.

"There is no need to tell Deanna. She will accept our decisions in this matter."

Will choked, suddenly turning the sound into a hiccup. "What? Are we _(hiccup)_ both talking about the same Deanna Troi? _(hiccup hiccup) _Daughter of the Fifth _(hiccup)_ House…"

His words were abruptly cut off when Worf reached over and grabbed him by the throat, lifting him slightly up off of his chair. Worf waved a dagger in front of Will's bulging eyes, before he slashed it downward, slicing into Will's right wrist and drawing blood.

Worf then dropped Will back onto his chair, then cut his own left wrist, pressing his blood into Will Riker's blood.

"Worf! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Now, we are blood. Family." He cleaned off his blade on one of Lwaxana's pale lemon damask napkins. "Hiccup cure, too."

Will stopped reacting, concentrating on only thinking. Then his grin returned - one of the biggest, most self-satisfied, most pleased smiles he'd ever had in his life. "Finally. I've got the brother that _I_ always wanted." He slapped Worf heartily on the back. Worf returned the hit. And both men bordered on the silly as they considered the change in their friendship.

In Madame Troi's communications center, a floor away from the breakfast room, Deanna Troi slammed her fist against a comm panel, one more time. "MEN!" she cursed once more, a word she had uttered many, many times during the past few minutes. She was partially surprised that her Imzadi had not picked up on her ever-growing ire. A good deal of it had been directed at him.

Deanna had not intended to eavesdrop on the conversation between Worf and Will. She was above such things. She had only come here to check and see if there were any messages for her, as was her twice-daily custom. Walking by the house monitors, she had been surprised to see Worf and Will speaking to each other with apparent civility. She normally would not have listened, but when Worf called Will a _coward_, her attention was captured. As their conversation progressed, she ran through a gamut of emotions, anger being the most dominant, though revenge was easily gaining as a second consideration.

"_Well, Little One. It seems that your two lovers are deciding your future for you."_

Deanna jumped in surprise. She had been so intensely concentrating on the conversation between Worf and Will, that she had not even sensed her Mother's presence.

"_Do you have any idea what I am going to do to them, Mother! How dare they! MEN!"_

"_No, dear, I don't know what you are going to do. What, Little One…"_

"_I am going to skewer both of them with Worf's bat'leth. They are shish kabobs! I'm going to play Parrises Squares with their naked bodies as targets. I'll use my ion mallet…"_

"_Little One, there is only one thing that you can do, after all that they have said and done to you. There's only one way to bring about justice."_

"_And that is, Mother?"_

Lwaxana Troi hugged her daughter and smiled her best, mother-always-knows-best smile. _"You will marry both of them."_

"_I WILL NOT!"_

"_How else can you make their lives miserable for the rest of their days, unless they are both your husbands? Besides, how can you really pick between the two of them? One has such nice hairy balls and such a broad chest. And the other has a really tight tush with the most darling little birthmark…"_

When Deanna finally calmed down, she would concede that her Mother had made several valid points. She was also amazed at her Mother's powers of observation in dim light.

**=/\= =/\= =/\=**

Captain Edward Jellico sat there in his ready room, watching his terminal play back the vids one more time. Neither by word, look or deed, at any point in time, had Jean-Luc Picard given any indication that he knew that Ro Laren was going to escape. Yet Jellico couldn't ignore his gut feeling that the former captain of the _Enterprise_ had known that was exactly what was going to happen. He had no proof. _Yet._

Minutes later his doorbell chimed.

"Enter."

Mentally consigning Jean-Luc Picard to the devil, Jellico rose to greet him. "Captain Picard. What can I do for you?" He motioned for Jean-Luc to be seated.

"I just wanted to thank you for your efforts on behalf of Mela Torez and her family. I was pleased to learn of her husband surviving the renegade's raids on Tohvun."

"We'll be rendezvousing with the Vulcan ship the _Amanda_. We'll pick up the man then. I understand that he still needs some medical attention."

"Yes. Nothing serious, fortunately." Picard tapped his fingers together in contemplation. "I also must thank you for your consideration toward me as well. I must admit that I was somewhat surprised by the Admiralty's sudden change of face."

"I think the fact that they almost lost one of their most senior captains to a bureaucratic misreading had something to do with it, Jean-Luc." He nodded in the direction of the replicator. "Care for anything?"

"Not at the moment, Edward."

"Admiral Nechayev wants to talk to you. She'll be calling soon, I would imagine." Jellico pushed some buttons on his desk. "Have you decided what you want to do, Jean-Luc?"

"Meaning?"

"I've been ordered to take you wherever you wish to go, Jean-Luc. The _Cairo_ currently does not have any priority class assignments, so my schedule is quite flexible." He stood and went over to the replicator, getting himself a coffee. "Unless you return to active duty, that is. Then I am to convey you to the nearest starbase."

Picard nodded. "Thank you, Captain Jellico. But I would prefer to finally make it to Gaudete II. I did make a commitment to Dr. Storal. From the preliminary reports that I've read about the dig, it could be a major find." He politely smiled. "Besides, I never did actually go on vacation. That was the whole purpose of my trip to Gaudete II in the first place."

"And Beverly is there," Jellico added.

Picard stopped breathing for a second. "I had not known that."

"Beverly was the center of the concerted effort by your former crew and Starfleet to find you, Jean-Luc. Once they decided that you were missing, quite a few people got in on the action, including the Klingon High Command." Jellico sipped his coffee. "I had not realized that the Klingons were so fond of you, Jean-Luc."

"I do not think that _fond_ is the correct word to use, Edward. I have been of use to them in the past. I don't think that they particularly wish to go through the effort of breaking in a new Federation officer to take my place."

"Whatever, Jean-Luc." Jellico put down his cup. "So you've decided not to return to Starfleet?"

"Not at the present time, Edward."

"Starfleet's loss…"

Picard had a feeling that Jellico didn't really mean it.

"Now tell me where you really think Ro went…"

**=/\= =/\= =/\=**

Considering that he'd been on board the _Cairo_ for more than a day, Nella was surprised when Jean-Luc finally got around to ringing the bell to her quarters. She had not expected him to come after all the hours that had passed.

"Nella. May I come in?"

"Of course, Jean-Luc."

He entered her quarters which were not quite as spacious as the ones she'd been assigned when she'd been under his command. Still, the rooms were colorful, and were already decorated with enough of Nella's mementos to reveal the distinctive sides of her personality.

He paused for a moment, listening to the music that was playing. "Bach. The Third Brandenburg."

Nella laughed. "Merely a coincidence, Jean-Luc. I really wasn't expecting you."

"Surely not?"

"Well, when you didn't show up within the first few hours, I figured that you had other things on your mind."

"Starfleet then Mela had planned my schedule, Nella."

She came over to him and lightly kissed him on the lips. It had been a long time since she'd kissed him. She lingered for a moment, then stepped away when he did not respond.

"Tell me something, Jean-Luc."

"If I can."

"Are you happy to see me or am I just another damned complication in your life?"

Jean-Luc sighed. "Nella…"

She walked over to the replicator and returned with two herbal teas. "Sit."

He took his cup from the lady, and tasted it, grimacing as he always did when he tasted this particular brew. Some things never changed.

"Well?"

He drank again before he answered her. "Nella, I don't know how to answer your question. My life has been rather complicated as of late."

'You never called me after I left the _Enterprise. _No message. No _Joyeaux Noel. _Nothing."

"You never contacted me, either." He didn't wish to be on the defensive with her, but apparently, that was the way she wanted it to be.

"A woman has to keep her pride, Jean-Luc."

"I thought that we had once been beyond that stage, Nella."

"You mean to tell me that you weren't secretly relieved when I never tried to plan your shore leaves for you?"

"Of course not." She just looked at him as if she didn't believe a word that he'd just said. Picard put down his cup. "Nella, I've not come here to quarrel with you…"

"Or to revive an old flame, eh, Jean-Luc?"

"You do have a way with your choice of words, Nella Daren." He stood. "I've never cared for it."

"Spoilsport. And sit down, Jean-Luc. I am not going to toast you over any Bersallian coals tonight."

He almost laughed out loud at her choice of words again. She did have a way of irritating a man's soul.

She drank her tea, then nodded in the direction of the replicator. "Want some more?"

"No, thank you."

"Of course not. Well, are you going to say it or shall I?"

"Nella?" He continued to be confused.

"It would have never worked between us, Jean-Luc. Not for the long term."

"That wasn't what I was thinking, Nella.

"Well, maybe not now, but I'd be willing to bet that you did at one point in the past."

"Nella, do not presume to tell me what I once thought."

"When the _Enterprise_ crashed, Jean-Luc - and I am so sorry about your loss… She was a beautiful ship." He accepted her words. "As I was saying, we don't require the same things. It took time for me to realize it."

"I don't understand, Nella."

"It wasn't your captaincy that separated us, Jean-Luc. It was the implied possibility of us having a future that alarmed you."

His cup crashed onto the side table. It was uncharacteristic for him to lose his temper, but Nella was pushing him too far.

"I did not _run_ from our relationship, Madam. Neither one of us was willing to compromise."

"If you really loved me, you would have."

"Nella!" He castigated her with an angry glare, striving to control a temper that had been sorely tested over the past few months. Various women had been plaguing him for a while now. "When I was captain of the _Enterprise_ I could not compromise. It would have meant going against my duty."

"And your duty is everything to you?"

"It was."

He waited for her to reply. He'd never known her to be at a loss for words.

"And no longer is?" The words were softly said, but spoken with great intent.

"I do not know what you mean." He turned away from her, mentally debating whether or not he should leave before he said something more unpleasant.

"Yes, you do, Jean-Luc." She came over to him, her gaze sympathetic. She put her hand on his forearm, touching him lightly. "You couldn't compromise because you loved your ship more."

"Nella!" His voice was sharp. "I will not apologize for making my choice."

"Neither will I, Jean-Luc If I hadn't loved you so much, if all I'd really wanted was only a sexual relationship, I'd have stayed around to see my stellar cartography lab being built. But I couldn't do that once you told me that you loved me."

Weariness hit him, flooding his body. He had had enough - of everything. "Nella, I see no point in continuing this conversation. Good night." He moved as if to leave.

"Jean-Luc."

There was something in her voice that made him pause. "Yes, Nella?" He did owe her some consideration.

"_We could have compromised _-reached an amicable arrangement. _We could have been lovers and friends._ And it could have lasted, possibly even for some years. Yet, somewhere along the way, we both would have felt cheated."

"Cheated?" His anger had dissipated. He was just simply trying to understand her rationalizations.

"I am not the _grande passion_ of your life, Jean-Luc. And our love of music would not have been enough to bridge the gap."

"What would you have me do, Nella?"

"Don't compromise when it comes to your heart, Jean-Luc. Go after the one you really do love - enough. Love her with at least the same strength of passion that you reserved for your _Enterprise."_

Her words surprised him. "Nella?"

"Mr. Data tells me that you have loved Beverly for a very long time - decades."

He stilled at the mention of Beverly's name. "What does Beverly have to do with us?"

She offered him her understanding. "Beverly has everything to do with you, my dear Captain. That is, if everything that Mr. Data has told me is correct." She kissed his cheek this time, brushing her fingers gently against his head.

"Mr. Data has always had the tendency to say too much."

"Well, I must admit that he has acquired a very human fascination with gossip. I was with him for a while on Earth. He was a source of some rather informative, interesting conversations."

"I must have a discussion about personal boundaries with Mr. Data one day soon. _Again_."

She kissed him again. "I think you'd really be better off having a talk with your _personal _physician." Her eyes glinted with the pleasure of bedeviling him one more time.

He studied her for a moment, then finally returned her smile. "I am already on my way to do just that."

"Good. Well, now that this is settled, let us discuss a matter that is of far greater importance to both of us."

"And that is?"

"Have you been practicing your flute?"

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Jean-Luc rubbed his jaw rather gingerly. His first encounter with Jorge Torez had not been an auspicious one. The man had socked him in the jaw before Picard even had a chance to finish introducing himself. He hadn't been anticipating an immediate need to duck.

Matters hadn't been helped any by the fact that Picard got the distinct impression that Jellico found the situation to be amusing, not that this captain said or did anything overt to indicate it.

Anyway, Jorge was now residing in the brig, as Picard found himself in the unenviable position of trying to be a mediator between a husband and a wife who obviously had more conflict between them than just time spent apart and light years traveled. Somehow, Jorge was under the impression that Picard had been with Mela for over eight months.

The fact that Dr. Selar provided Mr. Torez with scientific proof that the little John Luke was indeed his son, held no sway with the man. He was convinced that everything that was occurring was a giant Federation plot against him.

Picard personally thought that Jorge Torez was a fool. And someone unworthy of his wife. He hoped that his initial judgment of the man's character had been in error. But ever since he had first met Mela he had wondered how anyone who loved the lady could have let her travel alone in her condition, on board the _Unk_, the way that Jorge had. It did not speak well about the character of the man.

Jean-Luc entered the cabin that had been assigned to Mela and her children. The twins were gone at the moment. Being the only children on board, they found themselves the object of several crew member's off-duty attentions. Right now, they were enjoying themselves. Even Captain Jellico had permitted them to tour the bridge. This was something that Jellico knew that Picard would have never permitted on board the _Enterprise._

Picard watched Mela for a while, as she breast fed her son. He couldn't help but think of the times Eline had done the same with their children. Perhaps it was the fact that Mela reminded Jean-Luc of Eline that had first caused him to befriend the lady and her family. But now, she was simply his friend. He did admire her, but he also had to discuss with her the difficulties concerning her husband.

After the baby was asleep in his crib, Mela came into the living room and apologized again to Jean-Luc. "I don't know what to say to you, John Luke. I am so sorry about Jorge's temper and accusations. He was never this crazy before. Did he hurt you?"

Picard reflexively rubbed his jaw. "He did no damage that Dr. Selar could not fix."

"What are you going to do about Jorge?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"I don't understand, John Luke. Does Jorge face arrest? Are you not upset? "

"Never with you."

Mela blushed at his words. "I will speak to Jorge. He will apologize."

Picard did not consider an apology to be likely forthcoming from Jorge. He came over to her and held her hand. "Mela, you are not without choices of your own."

She looked up at him, seeing only kindness and concern in his gaze. "Yes, John Luke?"

"My family owns a vineyard in France on Earth. Right now, there is just my sister-in-law living there, running it. If you wish, for a time you could go there. I had intended to offer Jorge a job too. But, I think I'll wait a little while until he calms down."

"Why are you so kind to us, John Luke?"

"Is there any reason why I shouldn't be?"

She shyly smiled. And he was struck by her charm again. "My husband is not exactly a friend of the Federation."

Jean-Luc leaned closer and whispered, "There are times, Mela, when I don't feel that friendly towards the Federation either." He straightened up . "Make the offer to your husband, Mela. Whether he accepts or not, LaBarre is still an option for you."

"Without even consulting your sister-in-law first?"

"Her name is Marie Picard. Marie lost her son along with her husband a few months ago. I've already discussed you and your family situation with her. She would welcome your company." Picard put his hand on her shoulder, hugging her briefly. "You would be doing me a great favor if you choose to go. I worry about Marie being alone."

**=/\= =/\= =/\=**

Deanna said her wedding vows the way she meant to proceed with the rest of her life. She spoke to Worf the verbal words of promise in a private ceremony held by the orchid mirror pool in Lwaxana's garden. For some reason, Deanna and Worf seemed partial to this particular garden.

She made her promises to Worf, then kissed him. But she also held Will Riker's hand during the ceremony. Quite a few people were puzzled about what Riker was doing up at the altar. _Those who knew Riker's reputation could not conceive of him getting married. They just figured his presence to be part of the do-it-yourself cross-cultural ceremonies._

In public, Worf was the proclaimed groom. Privately, Will and Worf had agreed that the more unusual aspects to their union with Deanna would not be publicly announced. They would let their friends get used to the details before they made any more formal announcements.

Worf had chosen the Klingon bonding ritual for their wedding. Deanna had insisted on a traditional Betazoid ceremony. They had compromised. Words were said in Klingonese. The lack of clothing was Betazed. Family and friends were the witnesses.

Lwaxana sighed. She felt a great sense of personal accomplishment and satisfaction. She accepted her robe from Mr. Homm and slipped into a deep gold and burgundy mantle. It shimmered with her every movement. Her daughter was now married to the man she had chosen as Husband Number One. And promised to Husband Number Two.

Lwaxana silently promised herself that she would send a bottle of aged Aldebaran whiskey off to Alynna Nechayev for her part in the plot to get grandchildren for the Fifth House of Betazed. Lwaxana had no way of knowing why Alynna would react the way she did when she received a bottle celebrating _that_ Klingon's wedding. It would be years before Lwaxana would learn the entire story behind what really happened during the wake for the _Enterprise_. And why Alynna Nechayev had sworn never to drink Aldebaran whiskey or Romulan ale ever again. At least, not in the company of certain Klingons.

Lwaxana tousled her official new grandson's hair and smiled down at him with great affection. "Little One are you happy?"

Alexander beamed up at his favorite madcap relative and triumphantly agreed. "We did it!"

"Alexander, dear, I wouldn't mention our little plotting to your parents until a few years have gone by. Let them get used to being married before we bother to bring up any boring really unimportant details."

"My father is always talking about the importance of guile. I shall practice it."

"Wise man, your father. And he did show the good sense to marry my daughter. Finally." She patted his shoulder and hugged him. "Now, go and comfort your other grandmother, Little One."

He scooted over to where his Grandmother Helena was sobbing. He didn't understand why she was crying when she was happy, but Worf had revealed to him a long time ago that it was something that his grandmother did. Alexander accepted it.

Now that the ceremony was over, Mr. Homm walked amongst the non-Betazoid witnesses and handed out robes.

Deanna had to give credit to her new in-laws. Helena had not spoken a single word of protest over Deanna's decision to follow certain Betazed customs. She had disrobed without protest. Deanna should not have underestimated what a grandmother would do in the hope of getting more grandchildren.

In fact, everyone attending the small ceremony, had followed Betazed customs.

Now, they were proceeding inside for a low-key reception where everyone could get dressed again.

Geordi was perfectly natural in this situation. His visor had always automatically scanned warm bodies ignoring their clothing.

Leah Brahms was a bit more uncomfortable. It had been her experience that most scientists did not care to run around in the nude. Matters hadn't been helped when Will Riker had whispered to her that she had nothing of which to be ashamed. Geordi had reassured her that Will said that to all the ladies.

Besides, Geordi wasn't quite sure what the ceremony was about. At one point, Deanna had held both Worf and Will's hands as she whispered something to each of them. Both men seemed pleased with her words.

Geordi also scanned a sight he never ever envisioned possible. Deanna Troi had woven pumpkin colored orchids into Worf's hair. The floral bedecked braids trailed down in colorful contrast against Worf's hairy chest. Apparently, being in love permitted funny things to happen to the Klingon psyche.

Aside from his perpetual grin, the only thing that Will Riker wore were several ginger flowers strategically placed behind his ears. They matched the flowers that Deanna had in her hair wreath. With colorful ribbons twined through her dark ringlets, Geordi doubted if he'd ever scanned a more happy bride.

The only sad part to the ceremony was that they were all wishing that other friends could have been present too. Riker was already vowing to throw the party to end all parties when he could arrange for all absent friends to gather.

Lwaxana's one regret was that Jean-Luc Picard was not in attendance. Though she no longer considered him to be suitable husband material, she still had her healthy sense of curiosity. _One of these days she was going to drag that man to a Betazed ceremony and get him naked_…

A decorous, low-key (for Lwaxana) reception was hosted by Mrs. Troi, Helena and Sergey Rozhenko.

Ambassador Roper was in attendance with his much-divorced daughter Wendy. The few guests that were there got to observe Will Riker sidestep a most determined Wendy Roper trying to renew the brief relationship that had happened many years before. Once Lwaxana understood the problem of Wendy, she quickly solved it. No dilettante perpetual debutante was going to upset any of Lwaxana's expertly constructed machinations. She introduced the woman to Reginald Barclay. Some cultures would consider Wendy and Reg a perfect coupling - one very experienced sophisticated person and one almost innocent soul. They each had much to learn from the other. Reg would spend the rest of his shore leave as a willing pupil.

Hours after the reception, Worf carried his bride over the threshold of the lodge at Lake Tinoret. It was the same lodge that the Troi and Rozhenko families had preferred.

Two days earlier, during the bachelor party for Worf, Sergey had spent some time telling his son everything that Sergey had ever learned about human females during his lifetime.

Reg advised quoting poetry which wasn't such a bad idea since Klingons were noted for their passion-filled romantic epics.

Geordi didn't think his experience with Leah could apply to such a different personality such as Deanna, but he did remember how happy his mother had always been when his dad had brought home flowers, and recommended similar gifts when Deanna least expected them.

None of the bachelors noticed that Will was oddly silent about how to handle a woman.

After kissing Deanna for several minutes inside the main room of the lodge, Deanna had to remind him to put her down. Worf's instinctive reaction was to carry her directly into the bedroom, and place his wife squarely in the center of the bed.

Deanna had other plans. "Worf, please. Give me a few minutes. I have something _very _special planned."

With his Father's recent advice still foremost in his memory, Worf gently placed Deanna down onto a chaise lounge. She immediately went into the bedroom and closed the door.

Worf looked about the plank walled living room to the small lodge, that was built into a cliff side overlooking one of the prettiest lakes on Betazed. The wood lodge was located in a forest preserve and was quite isolated.

He was pleased with the site. It was not too sybaritic to insult Spartan Klingon tastes unlike most Betazed houses that bordered on the positively decadent. The Betazeds were a race that really liked their physical pleasures.

Worf walked past the living room to reach the porch that surrounded three quarters of the lodge. He viewed the lake down below and the trees beyond, surveying for possible future trysting places during their sojourn here. He stood there for a while, watching the sunset.

After what Worf deemed a suitable time had passed, he returned to the main room and decided to give Deanna sixty more seconds before he physically demonstrated to the lady that they were indeed on their honeymoon.

He noticed that there was some wine and hors d'oeuvres on a side table near a cobblestone wall dining nook. His father had planned for everything.

What he didn't expect was an intruder. Worf normally anticipated every possible situation. But on his honeymoon, his tactical plans had not included company.

"Worf. What was so important that you had to send for me? I was just about to return to G-6." William Riker's grin held a touch of devilishness for he was somewhat surprised by his summons. He had just come from the Federation consulate after having a brief reunion with his old boss.

"Captain. Will. I did not send for you. Why are you here?"

"Worf, I got a message telling me to beam over to this location. If you didn't send for me…"

"I did."

Deanna stood in the doorway to the bedroom.

Both men turned and then gulped in unison.

Deanna was a fantasy for the senses. Her perfume was heady, sensual, mesmerizing as it wafted towards her husbands. She was now wearing something that in the future both men would dreamily remember as misty rose colored _clouds._ Clouds that were languidly caressing the naked curves of her body. Swirling. Occasionally clearing now and then, to reveal enticing glowing pink flesh.

She took a step forward. The clouds parted for an instant. Both men gulped again. They looked at each other, somewhat in dismay as they began to speculate upon the possible scenarios of her intentions.

"Deanna," both men said simultaneously.

She smiled - a very special smile sent in their direction. "Will. How good of you to come." She extended her hand toward him, disturbing some of the clouds to reveal almost all of her right breast.

Worf was still looking at Deanna, partially stunned. Will, on the other hand, was quite familiar with the particular smile that Deanna was bestowing upon both of them. _Now_,_ he was nervous_.

He bowed and kissed the lady's hand. "Deanna. I think I can honestly say I've never seen you quite like this before." He admired the rosy swirls for a moment before he added, "You are gorgeous. Pink perfection."

"My favorite color. Thank you, Will." She looked expectantly over at Worf.

All thoughts of Reg's advice had vanished from Worf's head the moment she'd stepped into the room. Instead of flowery comments Worf gruffly stated, "Aren't you cold? You need a robe. I'll get you one."

She raised her hand. "Stay, Worf. I'm fine. And I expect that both of you will do your best to keep me warm rather soon." She waited for their response to her words. Both men gulped again. She nodded in direction of the open round fireplace at the center of the room. "Perhaps if you start a fire I won't catch a chill?"

Worf just stood there, his feet stuck to the floor as he kept staring at Deanna. It was Will who quickly moved. "I'm an expert at fires, Worf. All those Alaskan winters, you know."

Within a minute the fire was flaming nicely. Will grinned at Deanna. He had used his phaser to light it. "I wouldn't want you to be encumbered with a robe - not when you've gone to so much trouble with your outfit - and not at this point of the night's entertainment."

He didn't know exactly what Deanna was doing. But he had a suspicion that whatever it was, he'd better stick around and experience it. Will had a feeling that tonight was going to be _infamous_.

She pointed in the direction of a round glass table by one of the scenic vista windows.

"Worf. Will. Please be seated." She walked over to a side bar and motioned for Worf to pick up a bottle of champagne that had been chilling in a bucket. "Captain Picard was able to procure for us one of his family's vintages since he couldn't make it to our wedding."

"Nice of the captain," Worf stated, hiding his nervousness.

Deanna looked at him and leaned over the table, placing three glasses on the glass top. She nodded to Worf. "Please open this, dear. And then sit down."

Deanna sat down and crossed her legs. Since the table was solid matte glass, both men could view all that her veil of clouds did _and did not _cover.

Worf was proud that his hands did not shake as he opened up the champagne. He would not have cared to spill any of Captain Picard's gift. He reached over and grabbed the goblets then filling them. He handed about the glasses to Deanna and Will.

"To Deanna," he gallantly announced, "my bride."

"My Imzadi," Will cheerfully added. He knew he was going to pay for this night's sins. But right now, he was enjoying himself.

"_My _husbands," Deanna rejoined, smiling sweetly at both of them. "_Our _marriage…"

At this moment, both men felt in need of a drink. Deanna interrupted their gulping. "Ahem." And touched the rim of her glass to Worf's glass.

Worf was confused for a moment.

It was Will who clinked the rims first. And then, he drank the entire goblet in one gulp. He reached over and refilled the glass from the Jeroboam size three liter bottle of champagne. The he leaned back into his comfortable armchair. "Now what, Deanna. Since you seem to have arranged everything else, you clearly have some sort of plan for this evening." He looked over at Worf, a challenge gleaming in his eyes. "I'm game."

"Funny you should choose those exact words, Will Riker. You must still have a slight telepathic link with me." She reached over and picked up a box that had been sitting on a table by the window. Her very movements caused the kind of reaction in her husbands that the wispy gown had been specifically designed to create.

Riker stifled an instinctive groan.

She opened up the box, lifted out three stacks of chips, and a deck of cards.

Riker's groan changed into a moan. The significance of her actions sank in.

_Somehow, Deanna knew._

"Deanna…" he started to apologetically explain.

"Will," she drawled, in hyper-sugary tones.

She shuffled the deck and dealt out three cards face down.

Worf finally go it. "Deanna. You cannot play poker with us…" His voice trailed off as he really began to understand the significance of her actions. "_You were spying on us!"_

"Actually, Mr. Homm was," she explained. "At the beginning…"

"I shall kill him. He deserves a death with no honor."

"I wonder if the typical Klingon wife would say the same thing about her typical Klingon husband when he proposes to _gamble away her favors?"_ Deanna's voice sounded innocent. Her glare said otherwise.

Worf finally understood the meaning of the human phrase he had once heard - _your goose is cooked._

Riker thought the same thing as he mentally added, _"And other vital parts of the male anatomy as well - all cooked. Well done. Falling off the bone…"_

Deanna must have heard his thoughts because her smile got bigger - more frightening.

"Ante up." She dropped a chip onto the table.

Both men meekly complied. They were afraid to do otherwise.

She dealt face down, three more cards.

Worf finally noticed the number of hands. "Deanna. You cannot play this game. It is to be played only between Will and myself."

"Wanna bet?" she asked.

He shook his head, confused.

She leaned over in his direction, baring more bosom than he wished to have distract him at the moment. He tried to concentrate on her words.

"Do you wish to place a bet, _Husband Number One?"_

Worf looked at his cards, not knowing what else to do. Then he thought of something. "Deanna, you cannot play this game. What if you win?"

She laughed, a trilly little sound that sent goosebumps down Will's spine.

_She must have been practicing it._ Riker shook his head, trying to focus on her actions. "Worf's right, Deanna. What if you win?"

He knew he shouldn't have said it the moment the words left his mouth. He had the distinct impression that she was fancying making him a bullock. And enjoying every imaginary moment of it. _Definitely she was envisioning sautéing some of his certain vital masculine body parts…_

"Then you both will just have to do what I wish, won't you?"

Worf glanced toward the open bedroom door, shuddering at the image of three people sharing what should've been a honeymoon bed for two.

Riker checked out the most comfortable sofa in the room. He had a feeling that he'd be needing it before the night was through.

"Will, are you in or out?" she asked with exaggerated petulance.

"Oh, most definitely I am _in, _Imzadi. I wouldn't miss playing your game for anything."

He anted up. _Deanna would never be considered to be a great dramatic actress…_

Worf finally looked at the cards and then placed a chip in the pot. "What game is this, Deanna?"

Klingon bluster wasn't going to help him now. Starfleet training and a Klingon warrior's discipline and traditions had left him woefully unprepared for the antics of a vengeance-seeking half-human, half-Betazed bride with a decided axe to grind and a sense of female honor to avenge.

Deanna Troi playfully tossed her hair, took a deep breath fully aware of what that movement would do to the clouds caressing her breasts, conferred upon each of her husbands her prettiest, most-guile-less smile - _Lwaxana would have been very proud of her daughter at this moment _- and then chose to answer Worf's question.

"_**Stud Poker. Seven card."**_

_**A.N. The story continues in THE BEST LAID PLANS, PART 6, listed in the "M" section of fan fic.**_


End file.
